Caught Between a Rock and a Gibbs
by Florence1
Summary: Tony is injured but no one knows how or why, Worse Tony himself is distinctly uncooperative, who or what is he covering for and why? Complete, epilogue added
1. Default Chapter

This is a piece of fanfiction and is written purely for entertainment purposes. I do not own the characters of Gibbs, Dinozzo, Kate, Ducky, Abby or McGee, nor do I own the backstory of NCIS, this story is written as an homage to the clever creators and writers of a series I enjoy, and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Summary:- Tony is injured but no one knows how or why? That's bad enough but why doesn't he want help, who or what is he covering for?

**Caught Between a Rock and a Gibbs**

Tony tried hard to lengthen his stride and lighten his step as he entered the NCIS offices but the pain and stiffness were just too powerful to ignore. He'd hoped that the painkillers would have more effect but he'd barely made it in from the parking lot, there was no way that he was going to make it through the day without drawing attention to his injuries. He should have gone with plan B, which was to call in sick with stomach flu or something equally innocuous, but then, he had been fairly sure that Gibbs wouldn't buy that, and if he happened to send someone over to check up on him. . . Well that was what had made plan A seem that much more attractive. All he had to do was claim that he had fallen down the stairs, play down his injuries and hope that they didn't get called out on anything energetic, like interviewing little old ladies for example.

Tony scanned the area around his desk, the good news was that Gibbs wasn't there yet, so he might make it to his seat without too much trouble. Then, all he had to do was pray that he just got research assignments all day, not much chance of that, he really hadn't thought this through properly. Kate was there but she looked like she was engrossed in something so he took the chance and continued to shuffle forward towards his desk. He froze as she looked up.

"Hey Tony," she began, ready to start off with some of their usual banter, but taking in his appearance her face registered some concern. "My God, what happened to you?"

Tony swallowed, "I. . er. . .had a run in with some stairs and I think they won." He paused, pasting on his best smile, "But I gave them a good fight and they look almost as bad as I do."

"Stairs Tony?" Kate questioned, "I thought you lived in a ground floor apartment."

Tony smiled enigmatically and raised his eyebrows, "I didn't say the stairs were at my place," he stated, beginning the slow shuffle forward again.

"You're sure that some jealous husband didn't give you a hand with your 'fall'?"

Tony was about to reply when familiar but unwelcome tones chimed in from behind. "You been upsetting some jealous husband Dinozzo?"

Tony looked heavenward, briefly questioning his boss's usual ineffable timing before directing his glare at Kate. "Er.. no boss just a little fall is all." He waited until Gibbs was fully past him and focussed on taking a sip of his coffee before starting forward again, he moved as quickly as he could, aiming to sit down before Gibbs got himself settled, then he might not notice. . . .He stopped and gasped as a sharp pain lanced up from his lower back, pulling his focus from everything else.

Gibbs had reached his desk and turned, "Dinozzo?" Gibbs questioned, "are you sure that you are fit for work today?" He paused, taking in Tony's pale complexion and traces of a mark just around the hairline. " 'Cos if you can't give me 100 per cent then you're no good to me."

Tony took in a deep breath and tried to relax as he willed the pain to subside. "No, I'll be OK I just need to sit down for a while, it's just a few bruises and I'm a little sore," he stated, forcing another smile, "I can still use my computer though, I can still be useful here."

Gibbs took another sip of coffee to cover further scrutiny. "Now what makes you think that you are ever useful?" He stated, dropping into his chair and picking up the first of the reports from his desk.

Kate grinned, enjoying the barb that was so expertly aimed at Tony's insecurities, but her smile quickly turned to a frown as she watched him resume his slow shuffle round to his own seat. It looked like more than a little stiffness from where she was sitting. "Tony, did you perchance do something sensible like visit the Emergency Room after your little dispute with the stairs? Get yourself checked out?"

Tony stopped once more and turned to look at her, the ER was the last place he could afford to go with his injuries, too many questions would be asked. "Ahh Kate, better not ask questions like that, people might actually think you cared, besides, I told you I'm fine, just bruised."

"Well its not that I actually care." Kate stated, "It's just the last thing we need is you sitting there grimacing and groaning at us all day so I think it might be an idea if you go and get yourself checked out."

Tony reached his chair with a mixture of relief and triumph. He had made it this far, and even that had seemed a little uncertain at one point, with a bit of luck he could get away without moving for the rest of the day. He gripped the desk and gently lowered himself into his seat, stifling the sharp intake of breath, he forced himself to respond to the friendly banter. He was working on damage limitation now. He should have gone with plan B, he'd known that since climbing from his car, but even at that point he had been committed, too many people had seen him to just turn tail and run. Maybe if he kept things as normal as possible they'd cut him some slack. "Hey, I haven't groaned once since I got here, and I wouldn't know how to grimace. That sort of facial distortion is reserved for people like. . ." he swivelled his chair round to look at Gibbs, who gave him one of his 'go on I dare ya' glares. Tony quickly switched his attention to the junior agent behind him. ". . .Mcgee."

'He's trying way too hard, something's wrong,' the thought made Gibbs frown, he knew Tony far too well, if he had hurt himself the way he said, then he would be doing his best to elicit sympathy and licking his wounds, not trying hard to pretend that there was nothing wrong with him. His injuries were also clearly worse than he claimed, time to find out exactly how bad. He threw his pen down onto the floor in the gap between the desks. "Hey Tony, I dropped my pen, could you get that for me?" Gibbs asked looking at him pointedly.

Tony drew in as deep a breath as he could manage, the deliberate gesture wasn't lost on him, he glanced over at Kate and then at McGee, so much for not drawing too much attention to himself.

"Your pen boss?" Tony asked, stalling for time as his mind tried to work out the least painful way to do as he'd been asked.

"My Pen," Gibbs confirmed.

Tony looked down at the object on the floor, it was about six feet away but it felt like there was a chasm between him and it. "You'd like me to pick up that pen from the floor?"

"Did I just start speaking in some foreign language without realising it Dinozzo? Yes, My pen, and preferably before I grow old waiting."

Tony forced his best smile, "Sure Boss," he said with false confidence, bracing himself before pushing himself to his feet. It took far too long and far too much effort, and he was acutely aware that all eyes were on him, He took a step unable this time to hide the grimace as another pain lanced through his back.

McGee exchanged a worried glance with Kate, "Er, why don't you let me get that for you," he directed his comment at Gibbs, standing nervously. He could see how much pain Tony was in and it went against his grain to see anyone struggling like this.

"Sit down McGee," Gibbs tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument, McGee sat. His tone then softened as he tilted his head slightly. "Tony said he would get it for me, didn't you?" The challenge was clearly there.

Tony nodded, the thin sheen of sweat clearly visible now, he concentrated on taking the next step but again the knife like pain took his breath away. He forced himself to ignore it as he pushed his foot forward 'just gotta take the next step'.

Gibbs eyes never left the younger man as he carried on his visual assessment, and he didn't like the conclusions he was beginning to draw. Kate had been right it didn't look like Tony belonged at work or even at home resting, he needed medical attention. He idly wondered how far Tony would push himself to cover whatever it was he was trying to cover, no matter, the time had come to bring this charade to a halt.

Tony was almost in position to bend to pick up the pen when his knees buckled, his focus had been entirely on his objective and he hadn't noticed Gibbs coming round his desk, but he felt the strong hands that caught him and pulled him back to standing, felt his arm being draped over a firm shoulder, and tried to process the other sensations as the nausea hit. The edges of the world grayed and then swirled before he pulled it back into focus.

Gibbs reacted swiftly as he watched Tony's legs give out, "Dammit," he uttered softly, acknowledging to himself that his test had gone too far, he should have realised how bad things were without pushing. He caught Tony and was relieved to feel some strength and not just a dead weight, so he turned him and provided the support needed to keep him on his feet. "Kate, give me a hand," the order was terse, "McGee, get on the phone to Ducky, tell him we've got a patient for him and we're on the way down."

Kate came up on the opposite side of Tony and took some of his weight as she draped his other arm over her shoulder. Gibbs barely waited until she was in position before he started the three of them moving.

"Tony," Gibbs tried to get the younger man's attention, the uncharacteristic use of his first name signalling his concern, but he didn't respond, he tried again. "Come on Dinozzo talk to me?"

"Sorry Boss," Tony managed to mutter as he attempted to force his breathing to slow, "Didn't get your pen." His lower back seemed to be on fire, dulling the rest of his pains to insignificance, there was more agony with every step, he did his best to focus his thoughts, to try to figure a way out of this. There was no way they were going to believe his story once they got a look under his shirt. He lamented again the fact that he had not just stayed home and taken his chances. "Should've gone with plan B," he mumbled, unaware that he was thinking aloud.

Gibbs strained to hear him, he had caught the apology but not what followed. He looked across at Kate. "What was that?"

"Something about a plan B, I didn't catch it all." Kate stated, worried by the way Tony's head was beginning to loll forward and the pasty pallor of his skin.

"Tony?" Gibbs tried again, but there was no indication that he had been heard.

By the time they made it into the elevator, they were taking more and more of Tony's weight as he became weaker, so it was a relief to be able to lean back against the walls and let it take some of the burden.

Gibbs exchanged another worried look with Kate, Tony's eyes were clenched shut and sweat now rolled down his face, from this close he could see what looked like traces of blood, still concealed by the hair, there had been an attempt to clean it, but part of a cut was visible. He let out a frustrated sigh, 'Dammit Tony what happened to you and why don't you want me to know?'


	2. Shocks

Author's note- thanks for all of the wonderful reviews, every one is greatly appreciated. Here's part 2 hope you like it.

**Chapter 2: Shocks**

Ducky was waiting for them as they entered his lab. "Bring him over here," he gestured to the empty pathology table nearest to the door, it was clearly clean and waiting for its next occupant, but wasn't really designed for one who was still alive, not that there were many other options.

Kate and Gibbs were now supporting most of Tony's weight between them, although he was still making efforts to help, his movements were uncoordinated at best. The table was a little high as they turned him to lean against it, working as a team they gripped under his shoulders and with a nod from Gibbs, lifted him into a sitting position. The action was so smooth it was almost as if they had rehearsed it, but the movement still elicited a strangled cry of pain. Tony, still aware enough to try to play down his injuries, attempted to bite it off as he rode out the ensuing waves. He closed his eyes tightly once more, not that he had managed to open them much since the brief respite from movement in the elevator, he had managed slits, making out shape and colour but no detail. He tried to concentrate on his breathing, fighting the urge to take short shallow breaths.

Ducky wasn't wasting any time, from his first glimpse of his patient he hadn't liked what he saw, every instinct in him now drove urgent actions at a pace that he rarely used. His usual 'patients' required no urgency at all. "Help me to get his shirt off, let's see what we're dealing with."

"He has some sort of cut on his head," Gibbs stated as he moved to pull the clothing away. "It's hidden under the hairline, so I couldn't get a good look at it."

Ducky nodded his acknowledgement that he had heard, as he positioned his stethoscope in his ears. Gibbs pulled the shirt back.

The exclamations were simultaneous.

"Oh my God!" Kate let out an audible breath and took a slight step back.

"Damn!" Gibbs' hands froze mid action.

"Oh My," Ducky uttered, as he stared open mouthed at the ugly black and purple bruising that covered the whole of Tony's chest and abdomen and disappeared below his waistline and round the back.

It was Ducky who recovered first, moving forward to start his examination. "What happened to him?" He addressed his comment at Gibbs as Tony's eyes were still closed, his face a mask of tension.

"He said he fell down the stairs," Gibbs replied, his tone revealing how much he believed the explanation.

"Only if the stairs had fists," Ducky stated.

Kate and Gibbs both watched as Ducky began his examination, disconcerted both by the pathologist's rapid movements and by his silence. The fact that he wasn't telling them what this situation reminded him of, spoke volumes for his concern and fuelled theirs.

Gibbs turned to look at her. "What the Hell happened to him?"

Kate stared back, the question was delivered as though he expected her to have the answers, and it took a moment for her to process the fact that it was rhetorical. She read the concern and frustration on Gibbs' face, and shook her head, waiting as he read her expression, knowing that it mirrored his. They both turned back as Ducky finally spoke.

"Anthony, Anthony can you hear me?" He asked as he took the younger man's blood pressure, an unmistakeable frown creasing his brow.

It took a moment, but Tony forced a reply through gritted teeth. "Yeah doc?"

Ducky pulled the cuff off, looking even less happy than before. "Can you tell me where the pain is worst?" There was no point in asking where it hurt, since the answer to that would clearly be everywhere, but the severe pain, the pain that kept taking his friend's breath from him, could indicate complications beyond the obvious bruising. He began to palpitate Tony's ribs as he waited for a reply, apologising when hitting a tender spot elicited another groan.

Tony tried to concentrate his mind on the question, surprised that Gibbs wasn't all over him for an explanation of his injuries, he had been attempting to come up with something that they would believe, catching enough of the exchange between Gibbs and Ducky to know that the 'stairs' story, as he'd known it would be, was a none starter. If only this pain would settle down enough to let him think.

"Anthony," Ducky's sharp tones brought him back again, he'd asked him a question, guess he really wanted the answer. "I can't help you properly until I know where it hurts most."

"Lower Back," Tony stated weakly, "Like being. . . . stabbed."

Ducky muttered something to himself that no one else caught. He turned to Gibbs and Kate. "I could do with a hand."

They both moved forwards obligingly, grateful to be able to do something other than exchange worried glances with each other.

"OK, Kate give him some support. Gibbs I need you to help me get his shirt off the rest of the way." Ducky began to move round the exam table. Gibbs went the opposite way until they were both standing behind Tony with Kate supporting his front. They pulled the shirt away, this time Gibbs swore as he caught sight of Tony's back.

"What the. . . What do you think did that, what could cause. . ."

Ducky winced, interrupting "Let's just concentrate on treatment for the moment, we'll talk about who or what did the damage later."

Reluctantly Gibbs nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just support his shoulders while I. . ." He broke off as Gibbs complied and he moved in to palpitate the skin once more, this time Tony's reaction was instantaneous, he stiffened and let out another cry of pain. Ducky moved to look round Tony, "Mr Palmer," he spoke to his assistant who to this point had just been observing, hovering just far enough back not to get in the way. "I think you'd better get us an ambulance, impress on them that we need them here with some urgency."

"Duck?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky turned to look at him, "I'm afraid, this isn't something I'm going to be able to treat he needs to go to hospital. . "

Tony struggled to take in enough breath to word a protest. "No. . .don't need . . .'ospital. Just need . . . to rest, I. . "

What he was going to say next was lost as his body went limp and he fell forwards. Kate was taken by surprise, barely managing to stop what would have been a headlong tumble off the table. She caught him on her shoulder, her hands pressed awkwardly to her body as his weight rested on her. She leaned back into him in an effort to keep them both upright. "Gibbs!"

Her exclamation wasn't needed Gibbs was already back around the table helping to ease Tony off her and into a lying position. Once he was prone, Ducky began to check his vitals. "Damn, no pulse," He said urgently

"He's not breathing," Kate said, forcing herself to remain calm.

"Open his airway," Ducky stated, "we need to start CPR."

Kate positioned Tony's head and without hesitation moved to force air into his lungs as Ducky started the chest compressions, aware that her own heart was beating twice as fast as Ducky was moving at, she counted before moving to breathe again. She looked across at Gibbs between breaths, the concerned look was gone, his face was now a mask. The tension in the room was palpable.

Gibbs looked across at Palmer. "Where's the damn ambulance?" he asked, his glare enough to melt much stronger men.

"I'll, er, I'll go and check that they can find their way in," the young man stated, moving off rapidly. He had barely reached the doors when the EMTs entered, pushing a stretcher loaded with equipment.

"I've got a pulse back," Ducky announced, briefly pulling the agents' focus back from the entering paramedics. "That's it Anthony, I knew you could do it." Ducky spoke to the unconscious man as if he could hear him. "The paramedics are here to help now, we'll have you feeling much better soon."

Kate wasn't sure if she'd been more disconcerted by the doctor's earlier silence or the fact that he was now speaking to Tony as he did one of his corpses. Nonetheless she was grateful that the EMTs had arrived to take the burden of her friend's care away from her. She stepped away as they moved in, Ducky reeled off the information he knew as they attached oxygen, monitors and an IV.

"Ducky?" Gibbs managed to get the doctor's attention as the EMTs worked. "What's wrong with him? What caused those marks?"

Ducky sighed, "It looked like someone hit him with something hard, my guess would be an iron pipe or bar. The tenderness is over one of his kidneys and he has all the indications of internal bleeding. I'll know more once we get him to the hospital, but he's going to need surgery." He took a deep breath looking to the frantic activity of the paramedics as they transferred him to the gurney. "That's if we get him there. Look I'm going to travel in the ambulance."

Gibbs nodded, "We'll meet you there." He moved to stand next to Kate as they watched the doors slide closed, plunging the room into an eerie stillness.

"Whatever possessed him to try to keep going with injuries like those?" Gibbs asked.

"Well you know Tony, he'll take Macho over common sense every time?" Kate tried to lighten the tone but her heart wasn't in it. Her mood sobered as some of the shock of the last few minutes hit her. "We almost lost him," she stated quietly.

"Yeah, we still might." Gibbs answer was equally quiet as they both continued to stare at the door. The silence that followed stretched for a full minute.

When it happened, the shift in Gibbs demeanour was like someone had thrown a switch, he went from quiet contemplation to barely contained anger in the blink of an eye. "Well standing around here isn't getting us any answers agent Todd." He pulled some keys from his pocket and threw them at her. "You're driving." He pulled out his cell and hit the speed dial. "Abby I need you to pull Tony's car from the lot and strip it, tell me anything and everything you can about where it's been in the past twenty four hours and get Agent McGee to meet us at the hospital."

Kate caught the keys but did not move instantly she allowed herself another few moments to get her head around what had almost, what might still, happen before Gibbs impatient, "Kate!" had her moving again.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	3. The More You Find The Less You Know

Author's note: Just want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review, the response to this has been overwhelming and I'm sure undeserved. So thanks and I hope you continue to enjoy it

**Chapter 3: The more you find the less you know.**

Kate followed Gibbs through the doors and into the ER, barely keeping up with his easy long stride. She supposed it must have been the Marines that had given him the ability to walk at what would have been a jogging pace for most.

The ride in the car had been uncomfortable at best, her own concern for her partner had made her want to talk, to share her emotions in an attempt to prevent them from overwhelming her, from interfering with her ability to function, but one look at the tight set of Gibbs jaw, had convinced her that any attempts at conversation would be met with a minimal, if not hostile, response by her superior. He had his own way of dealing with emotions that rarely, if ever, involved opening up to others. She idly considered if that was another reason for his three, much speculated upon, failed marriages.

Still she couldn't help herself, during the journey she had glanced across at him on several occasions, just needing to see if his concern reflected her own, to see how he was handling it. Until finally a barked, "Agent Todd, have I suddenly developed two heads? because if not, I would appreciate it if you would keep your eyes on the road," had discouraged further scrutiny.

Now the only outward sign that anything was wrong was the twitching muscle in his jaw, an indicator of too much tension, that, and the breakneck pace at which he covered the ground.

Ducky was waiting for them when they entered, saving some poor nurse from an encounter with an angry, concerned Gibbs, definitely a blessing.

"They've taken young Anthony up for X-rays and an abdominal CT scan after which they'll be taking him in to surgery." Ducky stated without waiting for the question. "We can wait up in the OR waiting room, the doctor will come and speak to us when he knows more."

Gibbs held the older man's gaze for a moment. "Ducky?" he asked. The question could have been worded several ways: How bad is it? How likely is he to survive? How close did we come to losing him? Could we still? But one word was enough.

Ducky sighed, not wishing to go through the details of the ambulance journey, the fight to counteract the shock before it stopped Tony's heart on a more permanent basis. The fear that the young agent in front of him might bleed out before they could get him to the help that he needed. The fight to keep him calm when he had briefly returned to a semi-conscious, but disoriented state, and had fought against them, as though they were the ones who had attacked him, not the ones trying to help him, but Gibbs needed more than 'he's going to be all right,.' and less than a clinical description of his injuries. He thought for a moment, before finally settling on, "we got him here in time, they should be able to repair the damage. They'll put him on antibiotics to stave off infection, and they'll be keeping him here for a while, but I would say the prognosis is good."

Kate allowed the relief to show on her face but Gibbs did not react, at least not outwardly, unless you counted a miniscule relaxation of the tension in his shoulders that would probably take very sensitive equipment to measure. "Good," he said, with a quiet menace, "because that'll give me the opportunity to kill him myself." He turned and headed into the elevator that would take him to the first floor and the waiting rooms for friends and relatives of those in the OR.

Ducky met and held Kate's gaze, recognising that she needed a little more time to compose herself, given the way that this was messing with her emotions. She was strong, didn't feel the responsibility for her partner in the way that Gibbs did, nonetheless, she cared for Tony more than she was willing to admit. She felt close to him, and that closeness was growing the longer that they worked together. She guessed it must have something to do with relying on him to watch her back, with being there to watch his, because God knows he had enough flaws in his personality, that if she met him under any other circumstances she would have steered well clear, but still they complimented each other, like black and white, ying and yang, somehow the mix worked.

She felt Ducky place his hand under her elbow, he gave it a slight squeeze of reassurance.

"You two coming?"

They turned to look at Gibbs who was holding the lift doors open for them. Kate felt the gentle pressure on her elbow and allowed Ducky to take the lead as he simultaneously turned her and urged her forward. In circumstances like these there was something to be said for old fashioned gallantry, it could be very reasurring.

--

When the shrill tones of Gibbs' cell phone cut through the air, everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. McGee had arrived about twenty minutes after the others, and, in response to his question about what he was to do now that he was there, was told. "Now, agent McGee, we wait."

McGee could just imagine Tony giving him his 'come on probie, wasn't that obvious?' look, and at that precise moment he probably would have welcomed it. Anything was preferable to sitting there waiting whilst Tony was in surgery.

Since then, sharing the room with Gibbs was something akin to sharing the room with a caged tiger. The barely contained emotion bristled in the air, eliciting an irrational fear, an anticipation of something about to happen that grated on the nerves. No wonder Gibbs was so good at interrogations, the air around him seemed to buzz with a projection of his emotion.

What was worse was that none of the people in the room needed to be there, and they had all at some point considered that fact. All of them had things that they could be doing. There were no end of channels of investigation that Gibbs and Kate and McGee could follow, in an effort to find out how and why this had happened to Tony, not to mention the other open cases that sat neglected on their desks. Ducky had at least one autopsy to complete and several reports and lab tests to check, and yet, not one of them could bring themselves to leave. Not until he was out of surgery, not until they knew that he would be all right.

"Gibbs," he said harshly as he flipped open his cell and put it to his ear. "Hey Abby, you got something for me?"

"How's Tony doing?" Abby asked, ignoring for the moment the reason she had called.

Subconsciously Gibbs eyes drifted to Ducky as he answered the question. "He's in surgery right now, they had some internal bleeding to deal with around his kidney, but Ducky says the prognosis is good. So, what have you got?"

"OK, so, I pulled in Tony's car like you asked, and I'm working on the trace evidence, but I have to warn you there's a lot of it. For a start enough fingerprints to keep me busy for quite a while. So far I've pulled up three names, all female, all Navy, all attractive and under 25, but I've got a lot more unknowns to run, and don't even get me started on the number of different hair types I've found."

"Sounds like Tony," Gibbs stated, "But that's not why you called."

"You're beginning to know me too well," Abby said with a grin, before her expression sobered slightly, "Tell me does Tony have evidence of bruising on his chest, left hand side?"

Gibbs flashed back to the image of Tony's torso when they had removed his shirt. Bruising on the left hand side? Dammit! He had had bruising everywhere, but of course Abby hadn't been there. "That would be a yes. Why?"

"Because I pulled Tony's vest from the trunk of his car. There are two bullets in it, and from what I can see, if he hadn't been wearing it, they would have gone straight through his heart."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Plans

Author's note-Thanks for all for the reviews, every one is greatly appreciated, I hope you are continuing to enjoy it, I'll try not to let you down.- J

**Chapter 4: Plans**

"He's been shot?" Gibbs asked incredulously, the comment had an electrifying effect on the others in the room. It wasn't that they hadn't already been listening to the one side of the conversation that they could hear, but to this point other thoughts had been intruding, now he had their full attention.

"Well, it's difficult to be 100 per cent sure that it was Tony wearing it, which is why I asked about the bruising," Abby paused and looked across at the vest, where it lay on the table at the opposite side of the room. "But looking at the position and condition of the bullets I removed, it was definitely on someone."

"What about the bullets?"

"38 calibre, probably from an automatic hand gun."

"I need more Abs," Gibbs stated, a slight strain showing in his tone, which anyone who didn't know him well would miss.

"I know," she was well aware of the bombshell she'd just dropped. "I'm on it."

Gibbs mind was working overtime, a sea of questions and logistical processing. The whys, whos, hows, and whens battling for attention with the frantic planning of what to do next. His eyes narrowed as he tried to concentrate. "OK, keep working on it, and get back to me if you get anything else."

"Don't I always?" Abby asked but Gibbs had already disconnected the cell, so she contented herself with her usual impersonation of his reply, "Yes Abby you do and thanks for doing such a great job," she switched to her own grateful voice, "Why Gibbs thank you for noticing." She moved back to her microscope, still carrying on her imaginary conversation with a Gibbs who truly appreciated her talents, not even noticing that she was talking to herself at this point. She focussed the image of the bullet on the screen in front of her, the characteristic striations clearing to a unique pattern. "Oh Tony, Tony," she interrupted herself. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

Gibbs looked around the room at the concerned faces, all completely focussed on him. They were looking for answers, when all he had was more questions.

"Shot?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs let out a small sigh, a visible release of some of the pent up emotion he was usually so good at controlling. At least the pathologist had asked a question he could give an answer to, not one of the myriad that he couldn't. "Abby pulled Tony's vest from the trunk of his car, it has two bullets in it, right about here." He pointed to his chest, just in front of his heart.

Ducky stared at the positioning for a moment before looking up and meeting Gibbs gaze. The eye contact was held only for a moment, but a whole wealth of communication took place in the brief exchange. It was the nearest the two would get to opening up their emotions, a sharing of questions and concerns that was fleeting enough for most to have missed it, but significant enough for the two who had shared it. This was one of their own, and he was in trouble.

"How do we know Tony was wearing it?" Kate asked, breaking the moment.

Gibbs looked at her. "Well Abby was sure 'someone' was wearing it, and that sort of impact would leave considerable bruising." He turned his attention to the ME, his look enough without actually verbalising the question.

Ducky looked thoughtful as he tried to remember the pathology of the bruising he had seen. He nodded. "The bruises on young Anthony's chest could have come from that sort of blunt trauma, but since there has been so much additional damage. . ." He met Gibbs gaze and shrugged slightly, "It would be difficult to tell."

"But if you get a chance to examine him?" Gibbs asked

"I could probably give you a better idea now that I know what I'm looking for. Of course, I won't be able to employ most of my usual methods. So much more restrictive working on the living," he mused regretfully. "Anything I can tell you will be speculative at best."

"Good enough, meanwhile we need to try and figure out what the hell Dinozzo has gotten himself involved in."

"Why can't we just wait until he comes round and ask him? McGee asked reasonably.

In his current state of agitation it was all the trigger Gibbs needed, of all the emotions he was holding in, anger was the one he felt comfortable expressing. He gave McGee a hard stare. When he began to speak, his voice dripped with an icy venom." At some point this weekend Tony's managed to get himself shot," He paused, drawing in a deep breath. "He's also had the crap beaten out of him, bad enough to almost kill him, and, instead of calling for help on either occasion, he tried to walk into work this morning and pretend that nothing had happened, and you," he moved forward, encroaching on the younger agent's personal space. "You want us to sit around on our sixes for a few hours, wait until he's out of surgery and recovered enough to talk, then ask him?" He paused briefly, his glare intensifying, every intonation carefully chosen. "Meanwhile, whoever did this has time to dispose of evidence and get away, or maybe even come back for another try." He moved in again, his face now mere inches away from the younger agent. "Is that what you're suggesting Special Agent McGee?"

McGee gulped, his mouth open and closing three times before any sound came out. Hesitantly, "no. . .er. ." then more firmly, shoulders squared, "no," back to hesitation, "I. . er . . .erm. . ."

"Good I didn't think so," Gibbs said, backing off slightly.

"You really think, whoever it was will come back for another try?" Kate asked.

Gibbs turned on her, as McGee breathed a sigh of relief that he was temporarily out of the spotlight, he let the tension drop from his shoulders slightly.

"Gee Kate, I don't know," Gibbs voice dripped sweetness before taking on a hard edge again. He looked around. "And that in essence is the problem people, we don't know. We don't know anything. So don't you think we oughta do something about finding out?"

McGee nodded, Kate verbalised her reply. "So where do we start?"

"Did Tony say anything to anyone about how he was planning on spending the weekend?"

Kate nodded, momentarily transported back to the usual Friday conversation.

-

"So Kate got big plans for the weekend, or are you going to stay home and add some stitching to your quilt as usual?" Dinozzo asked, casually leaning back in his chair, turning his pen between his fingers.

"Contrary to what you believe Tony I do have a life beyond this place."

"Oh I believe you have a life Kate, I just believe that you spend that life sewing quilts and engaging in other spinstery activities."

Kate paused from the report she was trying to finish. "You are so unbelievably old fashioned, even your insults are from last century," she countered, only realising her mistake as Tony's grin turned feral, he had got her, pulled her in.

"Ah, that's where you're wrong Kate," he began in lecture tone "Quilt making is alive and well and flourishing in our fair country. In fact if you like, I can book you in at this years' American Quilt Study Group Seminar, where you can meet with fellow enthusiasts and discus all things quilty. You want me to book you a place?" His expression was completely guileless as he met her glare.

She was stuck, she couldn't just ignore him, she'd fallen for the bait and given him the opening he needed to ask a direct question. "They have study groups and seminars on quilt making?" She asked resigned to continuing the conversation.

"Oh yeah," Tony leaned forward again in his chair.

"Quilt making is actually a highly respected craft with roots in all areas of the community. It. . ." McGee interjected, trailing off as both Tony and Kate switched their glares to him.

"So Kate, do you want me to book you a place?" Tony asked again.

"Where do you find this stuff out?"

"Ah research is my forte," Tony stated, still pushing, "So you wanna go, or not?"

"I do not sew quilts," Kate stated, "nor am I interested in talking about them."

Tony's grin brightened a few more watts, there it was, game over, he had forced Kate to the direct denial.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?" She asked attempting to distract from his victory.

Tony leaned back in his chair again, "Ahh I will be spending time with the lovely Tiffany. . ."

-

"Tiffany," Kate stated, elaborating as the others looked at her. "He said he was spending the weekend with someone called Tiffany, I think they had plans to go out of town, I'm not sure where but he said something about having booked a lodge, I didn't ask for details."

"And does this Tiffany have a last name?" Gibbs asked.

"Does Tony ever stick with anyone long enough to find out?" Kate regretted the barb even as it left her lips. A fit healthy Tony was fair game but. . .no, this was no good, she had to continue as if everything was normal, she wouldn't be able to function if she allowed emotions to take over.

Gibbs tilted his head slightly to one side, his version of an acknowledgement. "What about his frame of mind, anyone notice anything different about him? Did it seem like anything was bothering him?"

Everyone shook their heads, "He was his usual annoying self," Kate stated, "If anything I'd say he was even brighter than normal."

"Normal for me too," McGee added. "He found 37 excuses to call me probie. . . ." he continued before catching the admission, "Not that I was counting or anything, I just meant to say, well that's pretty normal for. . ." He took a deep breath. "No, I didn't notice anything unusual."

Gibbs nodded. "So, chances are this started this weekend. OK McGee, I want you to head back, start with Tony's PDA, then his computer, see if you can find out anything about Tiffany, and Tony's plans for the weekend. Pull his financial records too, if he was renting somewhere there should be a record."

McGee hesitated, "You want me to hack into Tony's personal files?"

"Yes, why do you have some problem with that?" Gibbs raised his head slightly, and his eyes narrowed, a clear sign that he was losing patience, a subconscious signalling of authority.

"Well if I do that, Tony'll be really mad with me. . ."

"And if you don't I'll be really mad with you. Make your choice."

McGee considered for only a split second. "I'll go check the files."

Gibbs nodded and turned his attention to Ducky. "Can you stay here, keep us updated?"

"Of course Jethro, but I don't think we'll have long to wait for our first news," he pointed behind him to the figure, still in scrubs who was entering through the door.

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .


	5. Does it Bother You?

Author's note: OK apologies for the delay in posting but I've been away for the last week. Hope you enjoy it, let me know- J

**Chapter 5 : Does it Bother You?**

"Special Agent Gibbs?" the doctor queried, looking directly at him, when Gibbs was in the room it was always obvious who was in charge. The doctor waited for the slight nod of acknowledgement before continuing. "I'm Dr. Clarke, I've been operating on Special Agent Dinozzo."

There was no doubt that the doctor was there to update them on Tony's condition, but still a redundant question seemed somehow necessary. Gibbs obliged the protocol. "How's he doing?"

Kate switched her attention from the doctor to Gibbs, she wasn't sure what she had expected but it wasn't this. There was no doubting the strain in his voice this time, a rare betrayal of how he was feeling. The strong commanding tone was gone, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the concern, the fear that she was feeling herself, reflected in Gibb's eyes, his face softened letting the emotion through, and then, just as suddenly as it had appeared it was gone. He clamped his jaw, physically steeling himself to deal with anything the doctor may say, and the mask settled into place again. She watched for a little longer, the change had been so fleeting she could almost have imagined it, there was no sign of it now. She pulled her focus back to the doctor.

"I don't know whether to describe him as lucky or foolhardy. . ."

The opening was positive enough for Gibbs to interject "Oh I think Dinozzo fits both descriptions."

"Well, with the injuries he's sustained, I'm amazed that he was up and walking around. He must have been in considerable pain. One of the blows to his back had pushed a rib into his kidney, causing a small tear, all the moving around exacerbated the problem, but it also saved his life. If he hadn't managed to get himself to help, there's no doubt he would have bled out. We've managed to repair the tear and I'm hopeful that the kidney will recover."

"So there's a chance it might not?" Kate asked.

"We'll keep a careful watch on it, but we won't know for a while yet, his weakened condition means that he's at a greater risk of infection and the shock of the injury could cause it to shut down." He tilted his head slightly. "He can survive and lead a perfectly normal life with only one functioning kidney," he gave a small sigh, it was not an outcome he really wanted to consider, "but we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. At the moment, I'm more worried about his other injuries, he has severe bruising to his back, chest and abdomen, two ribs at the front are cracked and one at the back is broken, he also has a mild concussion from a blow to the side of his head, so we'll be watching him closely for the next few hours." He paused from his account, looking at each of the faces in turn. "What happened to him?"

"That's the million dollar question," Gibbs replied sardonically. "He collapsed before he could tell us anything." It wasn't quite a lie but close enough. "So anything you can tell us about his injuries, we'd be grateful for."

Dr. Clarke thought for a moment, "Well, he's obviously received a severe beating at some point, and, if I had to guess, I'd say the injuries happened some time early this morning, say between midnight and four a.m. but beyond that. . . . It wasn't exactly what I was concentrating on whilst I was in surgery," he paused, thoughtful again, "I do have to examine him again before I release him from recovery, I could take a look let you know what I find."

"Ducky?" Gibbs asked, turning to look at him as he spoke.

Again the single word substituted for a long question and instruction. Ducky replied with a slight nod to Gibbs before turning to Dr. Clarke. "I wonder if I might join you for that examination," he said, with his own unique charm, "I might be able to assist in deciphering some of what happened to our young friend, I'm not without some experience. . ."

"Of course, you must be Dr Mallard," Dr. Clarke interrupted, holding out his hand in greeting.

The handshake was met. "My friends call me Ducky."

"Forgive me, your reputation proceeds you, I should've realized. . ." he took a breath, "I would be honoured to have you join me. I believe we have a mutual friend in. . ."

"Dr. Clarke," Gibbs interrupted before the conversation drifted too far from the matter at hand. "Any idea when we'll be able to see Agent Dinozzo, talk to him?"

Dr. Clarke shifted his attention back to Gibbs. "He's in recovery now, we should be moving him to a regular room in about half an hour but he's on some very strong meds at the moment, I don't think you'll get much sense out of him until this evening."

"That's assuming we ever get any sense out of him," Gibbs muttered half under his breath.

Only Kate caught the comment and she allowed a small smile.

"I'm sorry?" Dr. Clarke asked.

Gibbs waved his hand dismissively, indicating that what he had said was unimportant. "OK, thank you doctor, we'll come back later." His expression turned more serious "Until we know what happened I'll be keeping a guard on Agent Dinozzo's door."

Dr. Clarke nodded his understanding, "I'll let you know if there's any change."

Gibbs turned and swept from the room as only he could, pulling Kate in his wake. They could hear the beginnings of a conversation as Ducky started on his newfound friend. "You know I remember a case when. . ." Any more was mercifully cut off as the door swung closed behind them.

-

Kate gripped the door and the side of the seat and said a quick prayer, trying to prevent herself from sliding too far as Gibbs threw the vehicle around corners and wove in and out of the heavy morning traffic. "I suppose it's too much for you to tell me where we're going?"

Gibb's glanced across at her, still managing to turn the wheel at exactly the right moment to swerve between cars that he had no right to be able to fit between. "Dinozzo's place," he answered succinctly.

"We're going to search it?" she asked.

"No, we're going to feed his cat," Gibbs replied sarcastically. "Of course we're going to search it." He looked across at her again. "Do you have a problem with that?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, it's just. . ." Kate thought for a moment "Don't you think Tony will be upset when he wakes up to find that we've been through his apartment, his personal stuff?"

"Yes."

Kate waited for more, some elaboration, but she should have known better, this was Gibbs. Still this wasn't some anonymous stranger they were investigating, it was Tony. "And it doesn't bother you?"

Gibbs reply was delayed as he flung the steering wheel to the side and stepped on the brakes, sliding the truck to a stop in front of an impressive looking apartment building. "Yes," he said again, releasing his seatbelt and opening his door.

"Yes?" Kate asked, as she climbed out of her side, she looked at Gibbs over the hood. "Yes, it does bother you, or yes, it doesn't."

Gibbs paused and met her gaze. "Hey, I'm not the one who asked the ambiguous question." He walked around the front of the truck and took a step toward the doors to the building. An audible sigh behind him made him stop mid-stride, he paused for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own and turning. "Yes it bothers me," he stated quietly "and not because he'll be upset, he'll get over it." The pause was longer this time. "It bothers me because it's Tony."

The admission cost him, Gibbs was not used to allowing his emotions to surface like this, but he knew that Kate needed to see it. This was not emotion slipping under the wire as it had been at the hospital, he was allowing her a deliberate glimpse into a side of his personality he let few see.

Not that she was that open herself with how she was feeling, but she was having a difficult time with this, having to do CPR to save your partners' life would do that to you, and now he was going to ask her to invade his privacy, when he knew that she sometimes struggled with the ethics of searching through the personal belongings of even complete strangers. His military side would tell him that that was a weakness, but he had relied on Kate's empathy far too many times now to dismiss it as such. He searched her gaze for that empathy now, and found it. He held the eye contact for a little longer, before narrowing his eyes once more, as his mood switched effortlessly back to one of professionalism. "So do you think we could get on with this?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly both in answer to his question and in thanks for the understanding he had just shown. She drew in a deep breath and turned, letting the air out again in a low whistle. "Tony lives here?" She asked looking at the expensive building in front of her. "Should we maybe investigating him for embezzlement, while we're here."

"Dinozzo comes from money," Gibbs stated as he strode forward, "His father's a banker and his maternal grandmother left him a substantial sum in her will."

Kate pondered the revelation, beyond noting that Tony always dressed well and he had more than a passing knowledge of the finer fashion houses and jewelers, she had never really considered his background. She did a quick mental estimate of how much a place like this would cost. "So I guess he doesn't need to work then."

"Guess not," Gibbs replied, glancing briefly back at her.

Kate filed the new information for later consideration. It certainly put Tony's career choice in a completely different light. He could probably afford to be one of the idle rich, not quite up to playboy status, but comfortable nonetheless and yet he chose law enforcement.

The doors swung open at their approach and Gibbs pulled his ID from his pocket as they headed for the desk in the lobby. Live plants and gently babbling streams decorated exquisitely lit beds on either side of them, as they walked between coloured, inlayed marble walls.

The young man at the desk glanced at the ID briefly, "Ahh, you must be here to see Tony," he caught the slip, "Er.. Mr. Dinozzo, I'm afraid he's not in at the moment."

"We know," Gibbs stated, "Have you spoken to him recently," he read the name badge, "Lloyd.?"

"Not since yesterday," Lloyd stated.

"So you didn't see him this morning?"

"No," he paused, "but he doesn't have to come out this way, in fact he usually goes through the garage in the mornings. Unless he wants to check his post, or for visitors, he'd have no reason to come through here."

"Have you noticed anything unusual in the last couple of days?" Kate asked, "Any unusual visitors?"

Lloyd shook his head, "No, everything's been normal except. . .Look what is this all about? Is Tony," he didn't bother to correct himself this time, "in some kind of trouble? I thought he worked with you guys. . ."

"No, he's not in any trouble," Kate stated, it was clear that Tony had some kind of friendship going with the young man, "He's in the hospital and we're trying to find out what happened to him."

"Is he hurt bad?" Lloyd asked, concerned.

"He'll be OK but we could really use your help." Again it was Kate who provided the answer.

"Sure."

"So you said everything was normal except. . .?"

"Yeah, he was supposed to be going away for the weekend, then this woman arrives, just as he's about to leave. At first he asks me to get rid of her, but she was pretty insistent, she said she wasn't going to leave until she spoke to him. He agreed to come down, like I say he was on his way out anyway, but the second he saw her. It was like he'd seen a ghost or something. He told me that he wouldn't be going away after all, asked me to ring and tell Tiffany that he'd been called back into work, and to make sure that he had no more visitors." He paused looking between the two agents. "I mean it's not unusual for him to ask me to ring someone up with an excuse, but he's been trying to get Tiffany to spend the weekend with him for the past two months and she'd finally agreed. So I was real surprised that Tony was giving that up for this woman. It's not like she was his type. I mean, she was pretty enough, although it looked like she'd been crying, but she was around his age," he caught the slight narrowing of Kate's eyes, "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he quickly interjected, "It's just that I've only ever seen Tony with younger women."

"I don't suppose you got a name?" Gibbs asked.

"No, she wouldn't give one."

Kate removed her notebook from her pocket. "Could you give us a description?"

"I can do better than that," he gestured to various points around the corners of the ceiling. "There are security cameras in all of the public areas, if you just give me a moment." He began tapping on the keyboard which was hidden discretely below the level of the desk. He turned his screen so that they could get a look. "This is a new system, it allows us to take time coded stills of all visitors. Makes it much easier when people want to know who's called for them." He finished entering the necessary information and a still image of a dark haired woman appeared on the screen.

"I don't suppose. . ." Gibbs began

"I've already sent it to print," Lloyd said, looking pleased with himself.

"Is this system connected to the internet?" Kate asked, knowing Gibbs wouldn't think to.

"Yes, you want me to e-mail the file to somebody for you?"

Kate smiled, she could see why Tony would make friends with this kid. She wrote down Abby's e-mail address. "Yes, please."

"Has Tony had any other visitors?" Gibbs asked.

"No, none," Lloyd answered, as he typed. "I haven't seen much of him, I saw him briefly yesterday and he didn't say much."

"What time was that?" Kate asked.

"Around 3.30 yesterday afternoon."

"And you didn't see him after that?"

"No, but I went off at eight." He pulled the photograph from the printer and handed it to Gibbs.

"Well thank you, you've been very helpful." Kate said making a note of the times before putting her notebook back in her pocket.

She turned to look at Gibbs, expecting him to be ready to move but he was staring at the image of the woman.

His gut told him that she was the key to what had happened to Tony, but how, and who she was, were just more questions to add to the steadily growing list.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	6. Not Even My Name

**Chapter 6: Not Even My Name.**

"Is it just me or does this strike you as weird?" Abby asked. Somehow it was always worrying when Abby asked if something was weird. "I mean going though Tony's stuff like this," she elaborated. "I mean this is Tony!"

She was unaware that she was actually mirroring Kate's thoughts all the way across town. Had she known, she may well have come up with all sorts of psychic link theories, and possibly even ways to test them, but, fortunately for McGee, psychic link or not, she wasn't tuned in enough to realise just how closely the timing of the thoughts matched.

McGee wasn't sure why he had decided to work on the computer in Abby's lab, he had a perfectly good computer at his own desk, although that concept in itself was still taking a little getting used to, and he had to give himself a pinch every so often, his reality check, after aspiring to what he thought was the impossible dream of working on Gibb's team, he was still taken by surprise sometimes by the fact that he did.

He could have hacked into Tony's computer from his own in the bullpen, it wouldn't have been a problem, breaking the password for the files on Tony's pda was similar child's play, but somehow he hadn't wanted to be alone. Ok, maybe alone was an exaggeration, the bullpen was always full of other agents, but without the rest of the team there, when their desks were empty, it always felt like you were alone. That was a feeling McGee knew well, and he hadn't realised how much it had bothered him until he became part of a team. Not that he couldn't cope with that under normal circumstances, but today wasn't normal.

So he'd managed to convince himself that he might need Abby's help, and that it would be easier just to work on one of her computers. In case he needed help, help with a simple hacking job, a hacking job he could probably have accomplished in his sleep. . . well, maybe he hadn't quite convinced himself.

"Well, don't you think it's weird?" Abby asked again when he didn't respond straight away. She looked across at him her eyes bright, her body always on the verge of a slight bounce, except of course when she was bouncing.

McGee was still considering. 'Weird' was that the word to describe his unease at what he was doing, at the reasons behind him needing to do it. Tony was in serious trouble and he had undoubtedly been holding out on all of them. He'd had the opportunity to tell them what was wrong and he had lied, to his team, to Gibbs, and now they were all investigating him. Yeah, he supposed 'weird' did sum it up. He nodded, "it's certainly an unusual circumstance, and going through people's personal stuff is strange enough even when you don't know them."

"But it's what we do!" Abby stated. Satisfied with his reply, she finished placing the fibre she had just extracted under the microscope.

He pressed the final run of keys in the sequence he had been entering, and was rewarded with a polyphonic beep from the pda sitting in its cradle next to him. "Oh my!" he exclaimed causing Abby to look up from the eyepiece, her questioning expression enough to let him know she needed an explanation. "I just managed to get into Tony's address book," he stated.

Abby's expression remained questioning. "And?"

"Well, if Tony's little black book section still relied on paper, then I reckon he'd need at least half a dozen volumes, there must be over a thousand entries here."

"Busy boy," Abby stated raising her eyebrows just a little. "You'd better make sure he knows Gibbs ordered you to do this because, when he finds out that you've been searching through there. . ."

McGee nodded, swallowing, it was not something he needed pointing out, "Especially since Gibbs'll probably having me checking some of these names out."

"And won't that be interesting," Abby grinned, "See if you can get some pictures when you do," she requested, curious as to what Tony's conquests looked like "purely for elimination purposes of course," she added hastily, not wanting to admit to that curiosity. "I still have a lot of fingerprints and hair samples to identify."

McGee didn't ask her how she thought a photograph would help her do that. "I. . . er. . .may not have to," he stated, looking back at the screen, Abby moved to look over his shoulder.

"A lot of these addresses have photographs attached already," he stated, clicking through a few of them. A succession of beautiful smiling faces of young women in various states of attire appeared on the screen, a new one for each mouse click. They were moving through them fairly rapidly, amazed by the variety of looks, Tony certainly didn't seem to have a 'type' beyond them being young and attractive. Then came the photograph that caused McGee to pause; both he and Abby tilted their heads to the same angle, as though the move was choreographed.

"Do you think it's some sort of Yoga position?" Abby asked.

McGee considered his reply, not even aware that, as he tilted his head back in the opposite direction, Abby once again mirrored his move. "I. . .er. . .I'm not sure" he replied licking his lips nervously. "I wasn't even aware that someone could get their legs into that position."

"What's her name?" Abby asked.

McGee dragged his eyes away from the photograph and scanned down the screen. "Tiffany," he stated.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs used the pass key Lloyd had given him and pushed open the door to Tony's apartment. Kate followed him in, still pulling her rubber gloves on, she was concentrating on that as she moved forward, and so did not look up until she was several paces into the room. "Wow," she exclaimed, her eyes scanning the elegantly carved furniture, and tasteful décor. "I'm impressed, Tony certainly knows how to live in style."

"I told you he comes from money," Gibbs stated.

"Yeah, but who would have thought he would have such exquisite taste?" Kate asked, picking up an elegantly carved piece of glass and turning it over to look for a maker's mark, noting that it was probably as expensive as it looked, maybe more so. She put it down again and turned to face Gibbs who was looking at some framed photographs. "This is definitely not how I imagined Tony's apartment."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as he turned to meet her gaze. "You spend a lot of time imagining Dinozzo's apartment?" he asked, slightly amused.

Kate looked a little flustered, she hadn't meant the comment literally, "No, that's not what I meant I. . ." Her eyes narrowed as she caught Gibbs' expression. "You know what I meant."

Gibbs nodded, glancing round again, the room was extremely tidy, nothing out of place. A large unit which housed a TV and stereo as well as a number of cupboards and shelves filled one wall, there was nothing on any of the surfaces, apart from a couple of books on the coffee table. "You check in here, I'll try the bedroom," he said.

She nodded, grateful for his consideration, and moved across to begin opening, the cupboards.

They met up again in the kitchen. "You got anything?" Gibbs asked.

"Apart from an appreciation of just how many sixties and seventies sitcoms have been released on DVD, not really," Kate replied. "Do you know Tony owns every single episode of 'I love Lucy' and the newly released 'Gilligan's island?'"

"With Dinozzo, nothing would surprise me," Gibbs stated. "You said not really?" he questioned, his eyes drifting down to the books that she held.

"Yeah, this is his High School Yearbook, it was on the coffee table." She placed the volume down on the counter so Gibbs could read the name, 'Rhode Island Military Academy.' "And what looks like an album of photographs from when he was at Ohio State."

Gibbs met her gaze. "Unusual things to have out. . ."

"Unless you were having a trip down memory lane with someone," Kate completed for him.

Gibbs nodded, "I guess we found our first clue to the mystery woman."

"Lloyd said she looked to be around Tony's age, so my guess would be some one he knew from school or college." Kate agreed.

"Ok, we'll take these in with us." He tapped the top of one of the books absently.

"Did you find anything?" Kate asked.

"Just some bloodstained gauze in the bathroom." He replied, suppressing the mental image that the comment conjured up. "Tony definitely came back here to clean up before coming in to work." His eyes had begun to scan again, this time coming to rest on the trash can. He strode purposefully across to it and pulled off the lid. He paused for a moment as he studied the items he somehow had known that he would find, and then he pulled the shirt out, holding it up for scrutiny. It was covered in dirt, only one button still clung tenaciously to an over lengthened thread, and there were several tears to the fabric. The collar on one side was stained red, and streaks ran down the back.

For a moment he and Kate just stared at it, a visual representation of the abuse their friend had suffered that was almost as powerful as viewing his bruised and battered torso. Kate swallowed down the bile in her throat, and silently unfolded a large evidence bag from her pocket. She moved over to Gibbs so that he could drop it in. The ritual was repeated with a pair of torn, dirty pants. The second shirt took them both by surprise. Again Gibbs lifted it up, this one wasn't as dirty, but there was no mistaking the two round blackened holes, just left of centre at chest height. Before either agent had chance to comment, Gibbs cell rang.

"Gibbs."

"OK," Abby began as usual without preamble, as though she was in the middle of a conversation not just starting one. "I just finished analysing Tony's vest and I found cotton fibres in the outside of the bullet holes."

"Which means that Tony was wearing his vest underneath his shirt when he was shot," Gibbs stated.

"Or someone was, we're still not 100 per cent sure that it was Tony wearing it, but whoever it was didn't want anyone to know they had it on." Abby replied.

"Oh, we're sure it was Tony," Gibbs said, confidently, meeting Kate's gaze as he spoke. "Because I'm holding the shirt he was wearing." He indicated to Kate, who retrieved another evidence bag. "I'm bringing it in," he stated.

NCISNCIS

Tony shifted on the bed and let out a slight gasp. The move made Ducky look up from the newspaper he had been reading. It wasn't the first sign of awareness that Tony had shown. At one point he had even opened his eyes and spoken, complimenting Ducky on the 'good drugs' that he was giving him, but Ducky hadn't even had the time to point out that he wasn't responsible for the contents of the IV, before Tony had drifted back to sleep again. Since then there had been the odd stirring, and each time Ducky had looked up from his paper and watched for a few seconds before returning to whatever article he was reading as Tony settled. This time was different, Ducky straightened in the seat and began to fold his paper.

His more detailed examination of Tony with Dr. Clarke earlier had alerted him to two things. First of all the beating that Tony had taken had been prolonged and methodical, escalating in violence as bruise rested on bruise. Secondly, that it must have been an extremely traumatic experience. It was that, coupled with his reactions in the ambulance earlier, that had prompted him to stay. Something told him that Tony should not be alone when the drugs finally released their hold, and he returned to awareness.

Tony shifted again and even the slight movement ignited pain receptors that even the morphine was not powerful enough to dull completely, especially now that its effects were wearing off. The pain triggered sense memories in his gradually returning consciousness and, trapped halfway between sleep and wakefulness, his reality came from memory alone.

The blow landed in his abdomen, the pain streaking out in spikes of lightning, the way the tiny points spread within a cloud, dancing across earlier pains to ignite them again. He forced himself to breathe as muscles spasmed, blood thundered past his ears and he only caught half of the question, not that it mattered, it was a repeat of one they had already asked. One of only a few that his interrogator seemed to know, but he asked them again and again, each one accompanied by a blow, each one followed by mind numbing pain, round and round in a circle.

He could vaguely hear Gibbs in the background of his mind. "Come on suck it up Dinozzo. Don't tell them anything. Name, rank, serial number, that's all you give. It's the military way."

At first the little voice was helpful, kept him going, but now he felt like screaming at it. "But I'm not military never was." Still he aspired to be like Gibbs, to learn from him. Maybe he should go with, "I can't tell them anything, I don't even know the answers to half their questions." But he did know some of the answers. And then there was the thought that was the most pitiful of all. "It's not even my own damn name. The name I'm giving them. It's not even mine," and in his head that last thought wasn't even screamed, it was more like a whimper.

The pain ignited again, this time higher up in his chest, and he knew that he couldn't take it any longer. His legs refused to support him, the powerful grip on his upper arms that had at first held him back, was now his only support, the only reason he was upright, and as his arms took his full weight, he felt them let go, his knees struck concrete, his hands barely getting forward in time to stop his face smacking into the ground. He felt his hair grabbed, his head yanked backward and there was another question. He couldn't help himself, he laughed, a full hearty laugh, despite the pain. He was down on the floor now, and still they were asking questions. That was funny wasn't it?

The pain of the next blow stole his thoughts.

Ducky grabbed Tony's shoulders firmly, doing his best to avoid the bruising. "Anthony, can you hear me?" He searched the pained expression. "Come on Mr Dinozzo, you're safe in the hospital, I need you to wake up now." His speech was more rapid, more urgent than normal, as he attempted to wake Tony from his nightmare. He was met with no response as Tony's agitation grew. It was clear each movement caused further pain. Ducky raised his voice. "Can you hear me? You're safe. No one's hurting you, you're in the hospital. Tony can you hear me?" The unconscious use of the contraction of Tony's name indicated Ducky's own rising panic as Tony continued to be unresponsive. Afraid that his young friend was going to hurt himself, Ducky resigned himself to pressing the call button to summon help, knowing that Tony would be sent into more hours of drug induced sleep only to repeat this ritual when those wore off, but he had little choice.

Then Tony laughed.

"Anthony?" Ducky questioned, as the fight left Tony and he sagged back on to the pillows, only to tense again almost immediately, as if in response to a sharp spasm of pain. "Anthony!" Ducky exclaimed, searching for the call button once more.

He was just about to press it when brown eyes blinked open and met his "Ducky?" The weak whisper, stopped his finger mid- action.

"Welcome back," Ducky replied gently.


	7. Caught Between

Author's note- so many thanks for the reviews- you give me the inspiration to write faster. Here's the chapter that the story is named for- I'd love to know what you think- j

**Chapter 7: Caught between. . .**

Gibbs dropped the bags of evidence on the table that ran down one side of Abby's lab, and took a sip of his coffee, anyone else might have had difficulty balancing the items all the way up from the car, but Gibbs could make a cup of coffee seem like an extension of his hand, and he frequently did. Along with the clothing, he and Kate had emptied Tony's trash can and found tissues with lipstick on them and a matching shade on a glass in the dishwasher, all of the items had been bagged for further study. Kate placed the yearbook and photo album next to them.

Gibbs turned, taking a sip as he did so. "What have you got for me Abs?"

"Well I've matched up several more of the fingerprints thanks to the names and addresses McGee pulled off Tony's pda." She flashed McGee a smile. If Gibbs wondered why he wasn't working upstairs in the bullpen, he didn't say anything. "And we've identified Tiffany. Kate was right, according to Tony's appointment diary, he was due to pick her up at eight on Friday."

"We know," Kate stated, "the doorman at his building already confirmed that, and the fact that he cancelled for a mystery woman who turned up just before he was due to leave." She unfolded the photograph that Lloyd had given to them, passing it to Abby who moved up beside her.

"Woh, hello mystery woman," Abby said, studying the photograph. "Is it just me or is she a little old for Tony?" she asked, looking at Kate.

"We think it's somebody he knew from school or college." Kate provided, "His high school yearbook and an album of photos were out in his apartment."

"Hmm a trip down memory layno huh!" Abby stated, studying the picture more intently, "I'll get this scanned see if I can clean it up a little."

"Actually you should have an e-mail copy of that image, Tony's building has a pretty sophisticated CCTV set up."

"Don't you just love technology?" Abby smiled, looking back up at Kate. "Speaking of which, aren't you impressed that Tony is actually organised enough to keep an appointments diary."

Kate shook her head, smiling herself. "It's probably the only way he remembers where he's supposed to be and who with."

Gibbs tried not to smile himself at the comment as he turned his attention to the screen in the centre of the room where McGee was busy pulling up information.

"Tiffany Van Der Kamp," Gibbs read aloud, "Is that really her name?"

"Apparently, I have all of her details here." McGee interjected accessing the relevant file, forgetting momentarily the picture that was attached. Both Kate and Gibbs tilted their heads to one side.

"Er. . .Sorry," McGee stated, realising what he'd done. "It's the picture Tony has of her stored on his pda."

"Gross," was Kate's contribution.

Gibbs straightened his head, taking another sip of his coffee, whatever he was thinking he made no comment. "So," he drew the word out a little, making it clear he was changing the subject, "if we have all this information, why are you still sitting here Agent McGee?" he asked, pointedly.

"Well, it seems Miss Van Der Kamp works for an airline," McGee began.

Kate turned to look at him. "Oh this just gets more and more clichéd by the minute. Only Tony could be dating a pretty contortionist with a ridiculous name who works as an airline stewardess."

"Actually she's a trainee pilot," McGee stated.

Kate looked suitably embarrassed about her own sexist assumption, maybe she had been working with Tony for too long, he was starting to rub off on her. "Oh," was all she could say.

"Anyway," McGee continued. "I spoke to her roommate, it seems that when Tony cancelled on her Friday night, she switched shifts and took a flight out to Europe Saturday with a layover in London for two days."

"When does she get back?" Gibbs asked.

"6 am tomorrow."

Gibbs took another sip of coffee. "And, of course, you plan to be there to meet the plane?"

McGee met his gaze. "Of course," he agreed, leaving no doubt that he hadn't gone as far as planning that step.

"Anything else?" Gibbs asked, turning his attention back to Abby.

"I'm still running the bullet for possible matches, but I didn't get anything else off the car. I'll get started on the new stuff you brought in. Anything you want me to concentrate on?"

"Yeah, the mystery woman in the photograph. You have his yearbook and an album of photographs. Find me a match. I want to know who she is?"

"And if your theory is wrong?" Abby asked meeting his gaze, the sparkle in her eyes matching pound for pound the intensity in his.

"I want to know who she is?" he repeated, matter-of-factly. There was no doubt that as usual, he didn't care how difficult what he was asking proved to be, he expected answers.

Abby held his gaze for a second longer before giving a slight nod and turning. "I'll let you know when I have something."

Gibbs cell rang, "Gibbs. . . yes. . .OK I'll be right there." He looked up to be met by three curious faces. "Well we may have answers sooner than we thought. Tony's awake."

NCISNCIS

Ducky was waiting for him in the hospital corridor. "Jethro," he greeted guardedly.

Psychiatrists could write books on the non- verbal communication that went on between the two men, a combination of experience and trust in the other's abilities, along with a long friendship, often made words redundant or, as now, very necessary. There were some reminders that Gibbs needed before he spoke to Tony. Some things that Gibbs needed pointing out for those occasions when he forgot that there were very few people like him, and Ducky knew that he was one of very few people that Gibbs would take it from.

"Ducky," Gibbs stopped short of his objective but couldn't prevent his eyes drifting to the door of Tony's hospital room. It took him a moment to drag his focus back, as though he had to reel in an invisible version of himself that was already a few strides ahead entering Tony's room. He met Ducky's gaze reluctantly, knowing that he wasn't going to like what he had to say, but knowing equally that he needed to listen to it.

"You need to go easy on him, he's still very weak." Ducky stated.

Gibbs studied his friend for a moment. "So tell me," he tilted his head slightly to one side, "why I wouldn't go easy on him?"

Ducky tilted his head back, looking down through his glasses even as he met the gaze of the taller man. There was the slightest hint of a hum before he spoke, an affectation that he had had for as long as he could remember. "He claims that he cannot remember any of the events that led to his injuries."

Gibbs eyes narrowed, a flood of irrational anger washed through his system and he swore silently, 'Dammit what was Dinozzo playing at? Surely he didn't think they were going to let the people who had done this to him get away with it? What was he covering? What couldn't he tell them?' The emotion crackled off the walls of the corridor as every muscle tensed, and he knew that Ducky had been right to tell him this out here. The anger he felt, the anger that should be directed at those responsible for the viscous beating, would otherwise have only one focus, Tony.

Ducky broke eye contact drawing in a breath, his brow creased in thought, the telepathy at work again as he correctly anticipated Gibbs' questions. "I believe he's protecting someone." He met Gibbs' gaze again, "Someone he cares for deeply."

Gibbs clenched his fists, channelling some of the tension through them; he forced his breath out slowly. "I know," he said, his tone controlled, and deep down he did know, it was the only explanation that made any sense. "But that doesn't mean that we need to protect them too?" He stepped round Ducky intent on entering the hospital room.

Ducky's hand on his arm stopped him mid stride. "Jethro?"

"I'll go as easy as I can," he promised, it was the best that he could do.

Ducky nodded and let go.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs entered the room quietly. Tony's eyes were closed. He drew in deep breaths, forcing a calmness that he did not feel. The marine guard on the door had quite rightly insisted that Gibbs show his ID before entering the room and that had given him a few moments more to compose himself. It hadn't been enough.

Too much of Tony's chest was showing above the stark white sheets. The deep purple and black bruising too vivid to ignore, and for a moment it drew Gibbs gaze; once again he felt the revulsion that he had when he'd seen it earlier, in the few hours he'd had to get used to it the emotion hadn't mellowed. He forced his eyes to scan upwards, forced his thoughts away from a technical assessment of the blows necessary to cause that amount of damage, as his gaze came to rest on Tony's face. Damn he looked so young, so vulnerable.

Gibbs wasn't sure why he felt so protective of the members of his team and especially Dinozzo. Maybe it was the Marine code of Semper fi that was so ingrained now he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't lived by it. Maybe it was the age difference that brought out his paternal instincts, Tony could certainly behave like a child at times, or at least inspired the protective instincts of an older sibling depending on what mood he was in. Maybe it was the fact that Tony always treated him as a mentor, someone to learn from, or maybe it was Tony's inherent vulnerability, a level of insecurity that was so masked that most missed it. Whatever it was, Gibbs felt that Dinozzo was his responsibility, and seeing him wounded like this cut to the core.

He took a couple of steps into the room.

Tony sensed rather than heard another presence and forced reluctant eyes to open.

Gibbs.

Part of him was really pleased; Gibbs being there gave him a sense of security, a sense of peace, that he hadn't felt for days now. With Gibbs around he felt safe. He tried hard to ignore the fact that Gibbs would have questions, that the peace wouldn't last for long, that he would be forced into actions he had never dreamed possible, but the nagging rationality of his conscience wouldn't let him. He half forced a smile. "Hey Boss," he said weakly, trying to adjust his position. The pain of even the slight movement took his breath, and it was difficult to force his eyes to remain open, to control the tension in his facial muscles.

"Dinozzo," Gibbs acknowledged, ignoring the signs of pain that registered on the younger agent's face. He knew that Tony wouldn't want him to see what he would regard as a sign of weakness, so he pretended he hadn't. He perched on the edge of the seat by the bed. "So why don't you tell me what happened?" he asked.

Tony knew the question was coming. He'd had time to consider his answer, when the pain had abated enough to let him think, and the drugs had allowed some rationality through, but he hadn't made use of that time. Instead he'd pretended that the question would never come, that maybe if he ignored it, it really would go away, but it was a pretence. "I don't know," he tried, "I don't remember." It was a line that even Ducky hadn't bought, and here he was feeding it to Gibbs.

Gibbs eyes narrowed. "Is there something in the way I conduct myself that makes you think I'm naïve enough to buy that, Tony?" He paused locking gaze with the younger man. "'Cos if there is then I've been too soft on you." He paused again, longer this time, his head tilted as it often did before a question. "What happened? Who did this?" he asked softly.

Tony gave a slight shake of his head and swallowed. He could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes and he held them back. "I. . ." he began hesitantly, there was so much of him that wanted to open up, this was his mentor, the man he respected beyond all others. Telling him the truth, sharing the burden would be so liberating, but he knew that he couldn't. "I. . er. . .I . . ." He looked away, unable to meet Gibbs' gaze any longer. "It's personal."

Gibbs stood, trying hard to control his anger, his frustration. "No Tony, it stopped being personal when somebody put two bullets into the chest of an NCIS special agent, whatever the circumstances."

Damn, how did he know about that?

He leaned in resting his hands on the side of the bed. "It stopped being personal when somebody beat you to the point where you could barely stand."

Tony could feel Gibbs presence but refused to turn and meet his gaze.

Gibbs leaned in a little further, "And it was way beyond personal when Ducky and Kate had to do CPR to save your life."

That comment forced Tony to turn and look, his eyes searching Gibbs face for the voracity of the statement.

"You almost died." Gibbs reinforced.

Tony swallowed again; the tears were getting harder to hold back as he considered what had almost happened.

"So I ask you again. What happened? Who did this?"

And there it was, Tony had never felt more trapped in his entire life. Whatever he did from this point, someone would suffer, if he made the wrong choices people could die. He was truly caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. If he didn't open up then he would lose the trust and respect of the man he most admired in the world, and it would probably cost him his job, his career. On the other hand, if he opened up, told Gibbs everything then either he would believe her story or he wouldn't.

If he believed her then Gibbs would probably risk his career and everything he stood for to help her, not to mention his life. Tony knew from bitter personal experience that her adversaries were playing for keeps. If he didn't believe her, then Tony was in no doubt at all that her arrest would lead to her death. However careful they were, they simply didn't have the jurisdiction to protect her, at least not in any meaningful way.

He didn't have the right to risk Gibbs' career, Gibbs' life, not to mention the rest of the team.

He didn't have the right to risk her life any further.

In the end it was a simple decision to make, there was only one person whose career, whose life he had the right to sacrifice.

He held Gibbs' gaze, searching for understanding. "I'm sorry," he said, looking for and finding the fleeting hint of betrayal, of lost trust, of anger, before he couldn't stand it any longer. His eyes swept down to the covers, defocusing as he concentrated every ounce of self-control towards stopping the tears that burned on the edge of his vision. "I don't remember," the statement was barely above a whisper.

Gibbs clenched his fists and without a word turned and swept out of the room.

"I'm sorry," Tony repeated to the closing door, as two tears finally trickled from tightly closed eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	8. Duplicity

Author's note: A million thanks for the encouraging reviews, you give me the incentive to write faster. I hope I don't let you guys down, thanks again.

**Chapter 8: Duplicity**

Gibbs walked directly across the corridor and hit the wall, turning it from a fist to an open hand at the last moment and thus, with the force the blow hit at, probably saved himself several broken bones. Even so it hurt like hell. A soft curse accompanied the action.

The strike made Ducky flinch, and everyone else on the corridor turn and look for the source of the noise. He watched silently as Gibbs composed himself again.

When Gibbs had emerged from the room it was almost as if you could see his anger in a cloud around his body, with each breath some of that cloud was sucked back in, internalised as Gibbs rapidly shaped and channelled it. On the third breath he turned, meeting Ducky's gaze as he did so.

"He's afraid of something," he stated, completely ignoring those who were staring at him. He had seen the fear in Tony's eyes before he'd answered him, and it had been more than that engendered by the healthy respect that he knew Tony had for him.

He deliberately encouraged some sense of fear in all those that worked for him. It kept them on their toes, made sure that they worked to the best of their ability, made sure that they didn't let themselves or each other down. It was a residual of how he was taught to train people when he had been a marine, mixed in equal measure with his own natural aptitude as a leader, but he had not been the source of this fear.

This had been unsettling, closer to a terror.

Ducky nodded. "Another reason why he won't talk," he agreed, he'd seen it too, fleetingly, Tony had tried to cover it, but it had been in his eyes, in his expression, too deep seated to control completely.

"I'm going to find out what happened." Gibbs stated firmly; there were many ways the assertion could be taken, Gibbs meant all of them. He began to step away.

"He doesn't want our help," Ducky stated, stopping Gibbs mid stride. It was an observation that needed to be expressed.

"No, " Gibbs paused, turning to face his friend, "but he's going to get it anyway." There was another pause. "Do you think there's any way of getting him to open up?"

Ducky met his gaze for a moment and then looked down at the floor as though that were the focus point for his thoughts. "Well that very much depends on who he's protecting." He looked up again. "If he thinks he's protecting us from something," there was a slight shake of his head as he spoke, "then I'm afraid that I think there's very little chance at all."

"Try anyway."

Ducky nodded again. "I'll do my best."

NCISNCIS

Gibbs assignment for Kate had been very pointed and specific. Track down people that Tony went to school or college with. Talk to them, show the picture, find out who the mystery woman was.

Kate had really wanted to tell him that it could wait, that she wanted to go to the hospital to see Tony too. Part of her dearly wanted to talk to him, to see him awake and alert, so she could get the damn image of him lying limp on the autopsy table out of her head, but telling Gibbs that would mean opening up her feelings to him again, and, for Gibbs, he had already cut her a lot of slack on this, besides he didn't look like he was in any mood to discuss his orders, so she had just nodded. She could go and see Tony later.

The fact that her assignment overlapped with what Abby was working on wasn't an uncommon occurrence. There were frequent occasions when it was almost a race between Abby and the rest of the team, forensics and the investigation throwing up the same answers, but there were other times when one needed the other to complete the picture. It was teamwork of the best kind, each complementing the other, filling in the gaps, adding to the knowledge or just helping to confirm what the other already knew.

So Kate found herself at her desk, cross referencing the names and addresses from Tony's address book with the names for Rhode Island Military Academy and Ohio State. She confined her searches to the years Tony was there, figuring that she could always expand to cover neighbouring years if necessary.

Bingo, she didn't need to, she felt the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the positive match, and began scanning the information on the screen. Jason Black had been on the football team with Tony at Ohio State, and apparently they still kept in touch. She printed out his details, and hit the button on her computer that would continue the search. She picked up the phone and dialled his number.

NCISNCIS

If he had had the opportunity to think rationally, objectively, to detach the emotions from his decision-making then maybe he would have played the situation differently from the beginning. If he had the chance to be more objective now, if he didn't have to fight with the pain or the mind altering drugs designed to ease that pain. If he wasn't overwhelmed by his own betrayal of all of the things that he thought were important to him, then maybe he would have reconsidered his actions, maybe he would have called Gibbs back and asked for his help, but for Anthony Dinozzo none of those 'ifs' featured in his reality. He had chosen his path and now he had to follow it, whatever the personal cost. The only decision he was left with, was what was his next step.

He took some time to think about it, fortunately Ducky decided to tell him some of his stories, and, from long practice, they were remarkably easy to tune out as he formulated his plans. Then he was only left with the problem of getting rid of Ducky whilst he took the first step. That proved to be a little more difficult than expected, since, even when he feigned sleep, Ducky continued to regale him with stories. It did not escape his attention that most of the stories Ducky was telling featured betrayal and regret, their message unsubtle at best. In not letting the team in on his problems, he was doomed to failure, but then, he kind of knew that already, and still he didn't feel he had a choice.

Finally he managed to persuade Ducky that he should get something to eat and promised to think about what he had said, all the while hating himself for the duplicity of his actions.

With Ducky gone he set his plan in motion. Even badly injured Tony could turn on the charm. Of course the fact that his assailants had concentrated their blows on his torso and avoided the face, didn't hurt. It was debatable if even Tony's charm could have shone through black eyes and swollen cheeks, but as it was his 1000 Watt smile was in full working order, well maybe a little dulled by the pain and the slight glazing of his eyes. Still he could fake with the best of them, and it had helped that the nurse had been very pretty.

She had bought his story about the reason he needed to borrow her cell phone completely. She had sympathised with the fact that he needed to talk to his girlfriend in private, that she was over two thousand miles away in LA and couldn't get a flight back. She had understood when he had explained how the people who had beaten him had been harassing him for a while, and had told him how terrible it must have been for him, to have to live with that. She had listened intently to the reasons why the phone to his room had been tapped and his own cell phone kept in case his assailants tried further harassment or contact, and finally she had agreed to lend him her cell phone so that he could have a private conversation.

Before making the call Tony had one last moment of self-doubt. Once he made the call there would be no turning back. At best his life as he knew it, his career would definitely be over, at worst, well better not to consider it. He hit the dialling sequence.

He waited patiently while the answer phone completed its message and the tone sounded. "Julie, it's me, pick up." He heard the click instantly; barely getting the last word out, she must have been hovering by the phone. Not that he blamed her; he'd promised to call hours ago.

"T. . .T . .Tony, thank God it's you I've been so worried."

He could hear the tears in her voice, a mixture of fear and relief and just a hint of panic.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, things were more complicated than expected." That had to qualify as the understatement of the century.

"What's the problem? Is it work? How are you feeling? I knew you shouldn't have. . ."

"Julie!" Tony interrupted sharply, "Look, now don't freak out on me, I need you to remain calm, promise me that you'll stay calm." It was a request that was akin to asking a cheerleader not to get exited, but he tried it anyway.

"But I. . ."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"OK, look I'm in the hospital. . ."

"The hospital! Oh My God Tony, What. . ."

Damn she was panicking. "Calm, Julie," he injected an even tone into his voice, tried to project it down the line. "You have to stay calm, I was hit a little harder than I told you." No, maybe that was the understatement of the century. "I'm going to be fine, but that's why I haven't been able to call you."

There was silence from the other end of the line.

It was his turn to ignore his own advice; he panicked slightly at the lack of response, "Julie?"

"You're really going to be fine?"

He let out a breath. "Yes."

"I should never have got you involved in this," the comment was bitter, self- recriminating.

"Hey, if you hadn't I would have missed out on all this fun," Tony had to force the lightness into his tone. His own spiralling negative emotions were enough; he didn't think he had the strength to carry both of them, so he needed to keep her spirits up. The sentiment however, came naturally; he'd been putting a light spin on everything around him for as long as he could remember now. Ever since. . . he blocked the memories, he just didn't have the emotional strength to deal with them, he never had, but hey, denial seemed to be working, or at least it had until he'd seen her again Friday night.

"But Tony. . ."

"Look, whatever, I'm involved now, it's too late to change that, we just have to get on." Tony paused for a moment, just running through his plan one last time in his head. "OK, now there are some things I need you to do. . . ."


	9. Identification

  
**Chapter 9: Identification**

Kate watched Gibbs pull up and stepped out of her car to greet him, she had called him to update him on her findings, and tell him that she intended to go and interview Tony's old team mate, and had been surprised when Gibbs had said that he would meet her there. She looked at her watch and did a quick mental calculation even as she acknowledged his response and repeated the address for him. If he was already finished talking to Tony then, given how long it would have taken to get to the hospital, he couldn't have spent more than a few minutes on the conversation, which meant that either Tony had had a relapse and couldn't talk, her gut twisted at the idea, or Tony still wasn't talking. That was an equally unsettling thought. What could be so bad that he felt he had to lie to Gibbs?

She finished the address, but, if she was hoping to have the opportunity to ask Gibbs what was going on, she was disappointed. He gave her a terse, "I'll meet you there in thirty minutes," and then the line went dead.

She stared at the phone for a moment and considered ringing Ducky to find out how Tony was, and, possibly as important, what he had told Gibbs, but she decided against it; Thirty minutes would barely give her time to reach Black's place and whereas she would wait patiently if Gibbs were delayed, she knew that she couldn't say the same for him. With a resigned sigh she picked up her keys and headed for the door.

As it was she needn't have worried. She made it to the house a full ten minutes before Gibbs, a testament to the heavier traffic that he had encountered between here and the hospital and not, she was sure, anything to do with the speed at which he would otherwise have driven.

Gibbs greeted her with a nod, barely breaking stride as they approached the house. They were at the door and he was hitting the buzzer before she had an opportunity to ask him about Tony. She swallowed her frustration, watching him carefully as she tried to figure out if it was deliberate avoidance, or just Gibbs being Gibbs, dealing with the matter at hand and ignoring the emotions of those around him. Was he genuinely oblivious to her curiosity, or did it just rate a low priority in his 'focus on the job' mentality? Studying his expression gave her no clue.

Jason Black opened the door to the small suburban detached house after less than a minute, but then she wasn't surprised, he had been expecting them, or her at least. She noticed his slight double take when he looked at Gibbs, his expression less suspicious when he regarded her.

"Hi, I'm Special Agent Kate Todd, I called earlier," She said, holding her ID out for him to see, "and this is Special Agent Gibbs" she gestured towards him.

She would have guessed that Black was older than Tony although she knew from his profile that he was actually a couple of months younger. The years hadn't been as kind to him, his hairline already starting to recede and his face was rugged rather than handsome, still he was a long way from ugly and the smile he flashed her would have rivalled her partner's.

"As I said on the phone we work with a friend of yours, Tony Dinozzo, and we'd like to ask you some questions if that's OK?"

Jason pulled the door open wider. "Of course, please come in." he stated, ushering them both inside.

He showed them through to the kitchen. "I was just about to make some coffee. Would you like some?" He looked at Gibbs' "Yours is black right?"

Gibbs nodded. "That'd be good thanks."

He turned to Kate, "And you take yours with cream and sugar?"

"Tony told you how we take our coffee?" Kate asked.

Jason nodded as he pulled out a filter bag. "It came up in conversation," he stated, flashing Kate another smile, "but his description of you didn't do you justice, I mean he said you were beautiful but. . ." He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Damn, he didn't say just how beautiful."

Kate felt the blush start at her neck, diffusing up rapidly, she wasn't sure if her suddenly elevated temperature was a reaction to the outrageous compliment and underlying flirting of the man who stood before her, or from being told that her partner had described her as beautiful. She met Jason's gaze for only a moment before having to look away, her thought processes momentarily short circuited by the reaction of her body chemistry. She looked across at Gibbs and, although his expression was impassive, she could have sworn that he was enjoying her discomfort.

He allowed her to stew only for a moment though, turning his attention back to Jason. "When was the last time you saw Tony?" he asked.

Jason broke his gaze from Kate and turned to fill the jug with water. "Weekend before last, we watched a game together, drank a few beers."

Kate took a breath and recovered her composure. "Have you spoken to him since?"

"No, we usually only get together when both of us happen to be at a loose end, it's fairly haphazard, sometimes we don't see each other for months at a time."

"Did he seem okay to you? Was anything bothering him?" Gibbs asked.

"He was fine," he clicked the on switch on the coffee maker and gestured towards the stools around the breakfast bar in the middle of the room. "This'll just take a couple of minutes, please sit down." He waited for Gibbs and Kate to follow his invitation and leaned back on the counter. "I've known him so long now I can usually tell when something's wrong." He paused looking between the two agents. "Look, I don't mind answering your questions, but you've got to know you're getting me worried. Why are you here asking me about Tony? Has something happened to him? Why can't you ask him these questions?"

Kate looked across at Gibbs. It was his call as to how much they told Tony's friend about their purpose. Besides, she realised with a slight bitterness, she still needed to know the answer to the second question herself. Why weren't they asking Tony?

Gibbs eyes narrowed. "Tony's in hospital," he stated, "He was badly beaten sometime last night and suffered internal bleeding. The prognosis is good, and it looks like he'll make a full recovery, but, in the meantime, we need to catch the people responsible."

Jason pushed himself upright as his muscles tensed, visibly paling at the news. "Oh God!" the exclamation slipped from his lips. His jaw clamped as his brain processed the information. He fixed his gaze on Gibbs. "I'm not sure that I know anything that'll help you, but I'll do my best."

"We think what happened may have something to do with this woman?" Kate stated as she took the picture from her pocket unfolding it onto the edge of the table. She took the opportunity, as Jason moved across to look at it, to glance up at Gibbs. He had avoided telling Jason the full situation. His statement implying that Tony couldn't, rather than wouldn't tell them what was going on. Her own frustration grew slightly, she still didn't know the extent to which that statement was true, but whatever had happened, Tony clearly hadn't told Gibbs who the mystery woman was. That much was clear from the expectancy of his current expression.

Jason picked up the photograph and studied it. Both Gibbs and Kate saw the moment of recognition and the reaction to it. If the colour had drained from Jason's face when given the news about Tony's attack, he went positively grey now. He groped for the stool in front of him barely managing to find the coordination to pull it out and to sit down, but desperately needing the support that it could provide. He swore softly and then almost whispered her name. "Julie."

Kate exchanged a glance with Gibbs, silently questioning if he understood the extreme reaction, he shook his head and gave a slight shrug.

"Mr. Black?" she questioned as he continued to stare at the photograph. "Do you know who this woman is?" She got no response. "Mr Black?" she asked, slightly more sharply, remembering what Lloyd had said back at Tony's building 'it looked like he'd seen a ghost or something.' That was exactly the reaction she was seeing now.

Jason finally looked up at the third prompting. "You can call me Jason," he stated, pointing at the picture. "And this is Julie Markham."

NCISNCIS

McGee was hovering. He knew that he was hovering. He knew that it had to be annoying the hell out of Abby, but he couldn't help himself. She was using his variation of a programme, his baby, and although he knew that she was more than competent to operate it; Hell, if she'd really tried she could probably have written it herself; he still didn't want to relinquish that last aspect of control. He was supervising that which did not need to be supervised, like a parent watching their child sleep, just so that they could be sure that they were breathing, and even though he knew it, he just couldn't help himself.

"Didn't Gibbs give you anything else to do?" Abby asked, turning from the screen to look at him.

"I. . .er. . . ah," McGee began, his mouth uttering sounds before his brain had had chance to process the information. "Er. . .yes, I need to try to locate the cabin that Tony booked for the weekend, but I. . .erm. ." He pointed at the screen. "I wanted to see what it turned out like."

She looked back up at the picture she had been working on. She had used the same software that they had used to regress the image of Ari, ultimately using it to identify his younger self, on the mystery woman. She had taken her back to roughly the age she would have been in the yearbook and was preparing to compare the images.

Abby had an extremely high IQ, but she did not need it to figure out why McGee was currently perched next to her shoulder. His curiosity, coupled with a bizarre sense of ownership meant that he could not bear to be parted from his creation when it was in use. She understood the sentiment completely. But suppressed her own empathy when it started producing analogies of Dr. Frankenstein looking out for the progress of his monster. "Sure," she stated, hitting the key that would ultimately produce the image she wanted. A picture appeared on the screen. "OK that's our mystery woman seventeen years ago. Now we just need to compare it with the photographs I scanned."

"Page 26," McGee stated, staring at the image on the screen.

Abby looked at him, her expression questioning.

"Page 26," McGee stated again, pointing at the yearbook.

Obligingly Abby picked up the yearbook and turned to the page, doing a slight double take as she stared at the photograph then looked up at the screen, then back at the photograph again. She looked up at McGee; clear admiration reflecting in her eyes. "Damn, how did you know that?" she asked.

McGee shrugged, trying not to look too smug. "I flicked through it earlier," he pointed at the yearbook. "Guess I remembered the face." He added modestly.

Abby smiled at him, mentally noting that she could add a photographic memory to the many positive attributes of Special Agent Tim McGee. "Whatever, it almost makes the search programmes redundant, maybe we should scrap them and use you instead."

"I. . .erm. . .I don't think that would work for some of the larger searches we do," he stated.

Abby grinned; it was almost too easy, teasing someone who took far too many things literally. She looked back down at the photograph. "So it looks like our mystery woman is called Julie Markham. . . "


	10. Memories of The Past

**Chapter 10:- Memories of the Past**

Kate looked across at Gibbs concerned by Jason's extreme reaction to the photograph. He met her gaze and gave her a slight nod, tacit permission for her to take the lead; he clearly thought that her questioning techniques would have more success in this instance. "So you obviously know her," she stated. "Can you tell us how she knows Tony?"

Jason continued to stare at the photograph for a few moments, seemingly oblivious to the question. Kate was about to ask him again when he looked up. "It's er. . .It's personal. I'm not sure if. . . I don't know how much to tell you." He swallowed, clearly considering his options. "Tony's hurt?" he asked.

"Yes," Kate confirmed.

He looked between the two agents. "And you think she's involved. . .of course she's involved, why wouldn't she be?" He looked back down at the photograph. "She ruined his life once; why wouldn't she ruin it again?"

He was clearly lost in his own thoughts and memories again as he continued to stare at the photograph. Kate gave him a moment before prompting. "Can you tell us about it?"

He looked up, looked between them. "I'll get the coffee," he said, pushing his stool back as he stood.

There was silence as he went to pour the drinks. Kate looked across at Gibbs who was clearly waiting for her to say something, to offer further prompting, but for some reason Kate knew that it wasn't necessary. She shook her head and turned to watch Jason, noting his slightly hesitant movements as he seemingly struggled to find the necessary coordination for the simple task. It was clear that his thoughts were elsewhere.

He poured the coffee into the three waiting mugs and returned the jug to its stand. Then he rested his hands on the counter, leaning his weight on them as though that were the only thing keeping him standing. Finally he turned, rested back against the worktop and let out a sigh. "I met Tony at Ohio State, we were freshmen together, team mates on the varsity football squad and room mates. If you'd known him then you wouldn't have recognised the Tony you know now." His eyes took on a faraway look. "Despite being very fit, he always looked kinda Geeky, not your typical jock at all. He was quiet, often shy."

Gibbs couldn't help but interrupt at this point. "Hold on this is Anthony Dinozzo we're talking about? Quiet and shy? You sure you're talking about the right guy?"

Jason smiled, "It is hard to believe isn't it, but I swear it's true, and it was an image he did his best to cultivate. He used to wear glasses even though he doesn't need to; they had plain glass in them. He did it so that he would be left alone when studying, claimed people were far less likely to notice him in the library. I understand he still wears them now on occasion."

Kate nodded. "Only when he's trying to impress a girl."

Jason smiled again. "That's Tony." The smile faded. "Or at least the Tony you know now, back then there was only one girl for him, Julie Markham." The name was repeated with more than a little bitterness. "He met her in school and they started dating, she followed him up to Ohio State, transferring in at the last minute because she wanted to be with him. For the whole time he was there he didn't date anyone else, only her." His eyes were fixed on a point on the floor in front of the table, but it was clear that the images he was 'seeing' came from his memory and not his eyes. "He was totally in love. I mean head over heels, worship the ground she walked on, never even look at another girl, kinda love." He looked up, locked gaze with Kate. "With most people that kind of intensity doesn't last, but for Tony, he was convinced that he'd found his soulmate, the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with." He looked down again. "They got engaged in the final year, although they made promises to each other long before that. It just took that long for Tony to find the perfect ring, the perfect time to get down on one knee and pop the question."

There was a pause; it stretched. Finally Kate decided that a prompt was necessary this time. "What happened?"

Jason turned his attention back to the coffee, picking up two of the mugs he carried them over, returning to retrieve his own and sitting at the table again before continuing. "There were three of us, roommates from the beginning, me, Tony and Mike Simpson." He looked between the two agents. "We were tight, ya know, best friends, went everywhere together, shared every experience. The sort of group that other people envied." He took a sip of his coffee. "Tony and Mike were always closer than I was to either of them. Don't get me wrong, we were close, it's just their friendship seemed to run deeper somehow." Jason paused again. "Julie and Tony set a date just after finals. . ." He took a breath, "Five days before, Julie and Mike eloped. They didn't tell Tony anything until after they were married; they came back the day before she was supposed to be marrying him. When they did finally tell him they didn't pull any punches. They told him they'd been having an affair for over a year; she had been seeing Mike when Tony'd proposed and she accepted." He paused again clearly submerged now in the memories. "I caught the tail end of their visit." The bitterness was clear. "I don't think any of them even noticed when I entered the room."

He looked up at Kate his eyes glistening slightly with tears that he would not allow to fall, the remembered emotion still powerful after all of these years. "It destroyed Tony. I stood and watched him disintegrate before my eyes, while they told him how sorry they were, and that they hadn't meant for it to happen, and any other platitude that they could call to mind. But, do you know what the real killing blow was?"

Kate gave a slight shake of her head, the "no, what?" barely above a whisper.

"He asked her why? He moved across and gripped her arms just above the elbows." The scene was so vivid that he couldn't help describing it, "And he stared into her eyes and he asked her why. She refused to answer but he repeated the question until she did." He clearly remembered the pitiful pleading tone; 'why? Just tell me why?' He glanced briefly at Gibbs then back at Kate. "The answer to that question was what destroyed him." His tone softened. "She said, 'because he's better than you.'"


	11. Why?

**Chapter 11:- Why?**

This time when the silence stretched, nobody seemed to want to fill it. Even Gibbs was forced into a moment of empathy for the younger agent. Only one of his marriage break-ups had involved infidelity. His ex-wife had started seeing another man, and it had precipitated the divorce, not that that hadn't been inevitable anyway. The breakdown had come before she had sought someone else's company, but it had still hurt. Hurt more than anything he could remember, up to and including the separation from his first wife, and the experience had left him bitter. Well, slightly more bitter than he had been, more cynical, less trusting, and he had been in a hell of a lot stronger position to deal with it than Dinozzo would ever be.

He had acknowledged Tony's inherent vulnerability long ago, but it didn't stop him from getting the job done, and to Gibbs that was the bottom line. Tony was good at his job, added to the team, his enthusiasm always more than compensating for his insecurities. Still they were there, fostering Gibbs' protective instincts, which currently, made him want to find Julie Markham and get her alone in an interrogation room for a few hours, ethics be damned. He tried to quell his rising anger, this had all happened in the past. Tony was fine now; wasn't he? His fists clenched whitening his knuckles.

Kate was reeling from the callousness of the comment, the betrayal of the act. She was hard pressed to think of a worse way to treat someone, a way to be more cruel, less tactful, especially someone you had professed to love at some point; someone you had agreed to marry. Even if she had good reason to break up with Tony, there were so many better ways of doing it. Like Gibbs, she tried to put the revelations about Tony's past into perspective. It had all happened a long time ago, but somehow her heart still ached for the suffering of her friend. It took her a moment to realise that Jason was speaking again, his words cutting through the stillness that had descended on the room.

"He didn't eat or sleep for days after that." Jason's gaze was once again focussed on an impersonal spot on the floor, as he brought to mind the painful memories. "It was like he withdrew completely from the world, gave up. He wouldn't accept help from anyone. Eventually a couple of us took him home and stood him in front of his parents so they could see how bad things were. We hoped that they could help." He paused again.

"And did they?" Kate asked.

Jason finally looked up, made eye contact. "I suppose," he said quietly. "They did what they always did, good or bad, problem or no problem. They threw money at him, sent him away." Again a slight bitterness pervaded his tone. "They never had the time for him, couldn't give him the reassurances that he needed." He smiled slightly but the look held no mirth "Ironically though, it was probably the best thing for him. They bought him a new car, as if that would help. Then they sent him to stay with cousins in New York, very much the Italian side of the family. They helped him reinvent himself to the Anthony Dinozzo we all know and love, confident to the point of cocky, so positive that nothing seems to dampen his enthusiasm." He took a breath, "At least on the surface." He glanced across at Gibbs then back at Kate, clearly more comfortable in recanting this personal information to her. "Underneath the scars are still there and they run deep." He shifted again taking a sip of his coffee. "He hasn't let a woman get close to him since. He avoids anyone who even looks like they might, like they were carrying the plague, or he does his best to alienate them." He stared pointedly at Kate. "He over emphasises his negative qualities, reinforces them. I've never been quite sure if its conscious or subconscious behaviour. Whatever, he makes sure that no one is around for long; no one gets close. I guess that's the only way he can protect himself from getting hurt again," another sip of coffee to cover the emotion, "That's where the serial dating comes in. He tried to convince me once that he saw so many women because he was making up for what he missed out on in college. It was an excuse that worked for a while, but 12 years is a lot of making up."

Kate shifted slightly uncomfortably in her chair.

Jason leaned back and looked across at Gibbs again. "I'm sorry, I'm giving you my amateur theories here, instead of sticking to the facts, but I minored in psyche and I've had a lot of years to study Tony." He drew in another deep breath, "and if that woman is back in his life, I think that it's important that you understand what she did to him. Of course, I'm not blaming her entirely for his lack of self worth. His parents were responsible at least for starting that, they sent him away to school as soon as they could, camps for the Summer, and in the little time he spent at home they didn't seem to have any time for him. He's still looking for approval from his father." He looked up at Gibbs momentarily and then down again. "And I'm guessing there's more than a little transference going on somewhere down the line, but Julie had a profound effect on him, on his world view, and on how he behaves." He scanned between the two agents again. "Have you ever noticed how important it is to him that everybody likes him? How hard he tries to make people like him if they don't seem to?" The question was clearly rhetorical but Kate nodded a slight acknowledgement. "He's got this idea that if he'd just tried that little bit harder, been that little bit better, then she wouldn't have told him that, wouldn't have left him." Jason stared into the bottom of his mug before taking another sip. "So he tries too hard."

Gibbs copied the action, draining what was left in his cup. "He does that," he echoed almost subconsciously.

Jason stood up to retrieve the coffee jug, offering the two agents refills, which Gibbs accepted and Kate declined; she hadn't touched hers. "And have you noticed how much he likes working undercover?" Again the question was rhetorical. "It's because he gets to pretend to be someone else. I asked him about it once when he was very drunk. Do you know what he said?" He paused putting the coffee jug down on the table, his voice cracking slightly. "He said he liked being someone else because it didn't matter if they were liked or not, he could just be them." He covered the emotion once again by taking a deep drink from his mug. When he had composed himself he looked back up at the two agents. "Tony is still living with what she did to him last time she was in his life. If she's back for another shot, I really think it could destroy him all over again, and he may not be able to pick up the pieces this time."

"Have you any idea what happened to Miss Markham after she broke the news to Tony?" Gibbs asked, trying hard to focus his mind away from the stirred up emotions and back to the task at hand. If this woman was the key then finding her had just become their first priority.

"Apart from becoming Mrs Simpson? No, I never saw her or Mike after that. I didn't really want to."

"Is there anything else you can think of that might help?" Kate asked. "Anything that Tony has said to you in the last few times you've seen him?"

Jason shook his head, "No, and if she had come back into his life the last time I spoke to him, believe me I would have known. No, this has definitely happened since."

Gibbs stood taking out a card. "Well if you think of anything. . .?"

"I'll get in touch straight away," Jason stated. "Do you. . .would it be OK if I visited Tony, spoke to him about it?" He asked hesitantly, scanning between the two agents.

Kate and Gibbs exchanged a glance, and it was Kate who answered. "I think that would help," she said.

"I'll call over during visiting hours tomorrow then."

The two agents were almost back at the car when Kate stopped. Gibbs only took a step before he realised she wasn't beside him. He turned, a questioning expression on his face.

"I don't understand," Kate stated, looking back at the house as though it somehow held the answers to her dilemma, her thoughts piecing themselves together. "If she was so cruel to him, then why would Tony even give her the time of day, much less cover for her, and I'm assuming that's why Tony isn't talking."

The first question was implicit; did Gibbs agree Tony was covering for her?

Gibbs met her gaze, held it for a moment. "Yes, he's covering for her, and yes, I think he's helping her with something. Something that almost got him killed."

"But why? You heard what Jason said, she almost destroyed him, she cheated on him, dumped him, insulted him."

"Yes I heard what Jason said," Gibbs stated. "And I'm surprised that you didn't hear it too Kate. I thought you were the empathic one." He turned and began to walk towards the car.

Kate tried to figure it out for a second before opting for the easier option. "What? What did he say that I missed?"

Gibbs paused with his hand on the driver's door. "He said that Tony still loves her," he stated, opening the door and climbing in.

Kate stood, momentarily dazed. It was only the engine starting that pulled her out of her reverie; she took the remaining steps forward and hauled open the door. "Are you sure?" she asked as she secured her seatbelt.

Gibbs didn't get a chance to answer as his cell phone rang. Kate felt as much as saw Gibbs mood change, even without the visual confirmation of his tensing muscles and darkening expression, she would have known that something was wrong. "We'll be right there." Gibbs stated, cutting off the call abruptly and tossing his cell phone to her. He didn't wait for the question as he pulled the car away from the curb he turned to look at Kate. "It's Tony," he stated, his tone clipped, "He's gone missing from the hospital."


	12. Suppressing Emotions

**Chapter 12: Suppressing Emotion.**

Ducky was again waiting for them outside Tony's room. He looked agitated, but Gibbs did not stop for him, he barely broke stride as he nodded an acknowledgement and continued past. It didn't faze the doctor who fell into step behind him.

"I'm sorry Jethro, I should have stayed," Ducky spoke as he followed Gibbs into the hospital room. "But I had to get home to mother. . ."

"Not your fault Ducky," Gibbs turned, locked gaze with the older man, acknowledging and admonishing the guilt in one look. He turned back, his eyes sweeping the room. McGee was there, taking photographs and making notes in a notebook, and Abby was currently dusting for fingerprints. For some reason it didn't surprise him that she was there, although he could count on the fingers of one hand the cases where Abby had left her lab, and collected evidence at a crime scene herself, and on all of those occasions he had personally ordered her to do it. Not that she couldn't, it's just that there were more productive ways for her to spend her time back at the lab. Still, surprised or not, he had to ask. "Abby?"

"McGee brought me out here," Abby explained looking up from her task. "We were going to visit with Tony, I kinda wanted to see for myself that he was all right." She gestured around the room, "But all we found was an empty bed."

Gibbs nodded, his eyes drifting unconsciously to the bed; the dangling lines and tubes that should still have been attached to Tony, the folded back covers under which his agent should have been lying, safe, protected. He caught himself before his mind spiralled off into the myriad of questions and possible answers that he had fought to keep in some semblance of order on the journey here. Well, it wasn't the questions and possible answers that were so much the problem, that was what his job involved most of the time. It was keeping a tack on the emotions that were attached.

Despite appearing to be in control almost all of the time, Gibbs was a man who was driven by emotion. It was what gave him his edge, what made him a good investigator. He felt for the victims of crime. His outrage at injustice and desire to protect the innocent, drove him with a righteous zeal to apprehend those that were guilty, to see them punished for their crimes. Any of these emotions that he expressed on a normal case were multiplied to the point of obsession when one of his own was threatened. So it had been with Ari. Now it was with whatever Dinozzo was involved in. Only this was worse, at the moment his emotions didn't have a real focus and reigning them in was already difficult. Still, it was important that he do so, important that he concentrated on the task at hand. He swallowed everything back.

"So tell me what we've got." He asked pulling his gaze from the bed to cover the rest of the room.

McGee took the shot he had just lined up and lowered his camera. "Well there were no apparent signs of a struggle. So either Tony was asleep or unconscious when they took him or. . ." He paused momentarily; it was long enough for Abby to jump in.

"Or he went voluntarily." She stated, standing and moving to her laptop.

"I don't know which is worse." Kate stated quietly from her position by the door. At this point she wanted Gibbs to come out with some quip about Tony 'Regretting his actions,' if he'd left under his own steam. She wanted some of the light banter that kept them going. She wanted to hear some of the slight edge that was underlying all of Gibbs veiled, half-meant threats. It was an edginess that honed their minds, focussed their skills, kept them all sane, but there was no quip this time. The lightness that had been available to them even earlier that day had disappeared, buried beneath the morass of emotion. There was no, 'I'll kill him myself," No, 'He'd better have been kidnapped or he'll regret it when I catch up with him.'

Instead Gibbs turned and met her gaze. "They're both bad, Kate."

She swallowed, her stomach clenching in fear, and she gave a slight nod.

Gibbs turned back to McGee and Abby. "Do we have any evidence to support either

possibility?"

"Well, the head nurse is arranging a room for you to interview everybody in, and security are preparing a tape covering the corridor outside the room as we speak." McGee stated.

"But, apart from the prints I've pulled which I haven't had time to analyse, the marine guard is our biggest clue so far." Abby stated.

"What happened to him?" Gibbs asked.

"He was pulled off at seven thirty four this evening." Abby stated. "According to his command they received orders to remove the guard. Apparently the threat to Tony's safety had been eliminated."

"And where did those orders come from?" Gibbs asked, already having a feeling that he knew the answer.

"Why from NCIS of course, specifically from one agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

NCISNCIS

Tony reclined the seat a little more in an effort to take some of the pressure off his breathing, and tried to ignore the pain enough to relax. Every step since leaving his bed in the hospital had been agonizing. His muscles had stiffened in the time he had allowed them to relax, making movement that much more difficult than it had been that morning. Then he had been running on adrenaline and caffeine. He wasn't sure what was keeping him going now.

Of course, the blood loss, the shock, the almost dieing and the emergency surgery had all conspired to ensure that he barely had the strength to stand, even without his other injuries. His body hadn't just reached breaking point, it had passed it, and the few hours rest he'd achieved were woefully inadequate compared to what he needed. Still he had some things to be thankful for. If they hadn't been able to repair the damage by keyhole surgery, then he knew that no strength of will would have even got him into the wheelchair, let alone out of the hospital and into the car. The blood transfusion and fluids had also helped considerably, and he'd been lucky that no one had tried to stop them as Julie had wheeled him out.

In fact it was more than luck that they had made it out of the hospital at all, more like a minor miracle that no one had spotted them and raised the alarm. Especially with the time they had wasted arguing. Julie had almost balked when she had seen him, realised how weak he was. She wanted to leave him there and go, but there were so many reasons why he couldn't let her do that, so he had taken the time to persuade her that he had no choice. He was glad he'd covered the worst of the bruising, he doubted even his powers of persuasion could have got her to take him if she'd been able to see the true extent of his injuries.

He'd managed to persuade the same pretty nurse who'd lent him the cell phone to find him a sweatshirt, claiming this time that he didn't want his dear sweet grandmother to see all the bruising when she visited him. She'd flashed him an amazing smile when she'd brought it, and he knew when she told him that she was 'touched by his sensitivity in the face of all that pain' that he had made another female conquest, but this, like so many of the others, was based upon a lie, a false projection of who he was, and, as he had so many times before, he kept up the pretence. The difference was that this time he could truly see it for what it was.

Pulling on the rest of the clothing that Julie had brought him had almost been his undoing, only the morphine still in his system and her assistance prevented the pain from becoming enough to make him pass out.

Still, he had made it. They were away from the hospital; had escaped while he still had the chance. He knew with Gibbs and the team investigating that window of opportunity had a very short span. If he'd stayed then Gibbs would have stopped him from leaving, or they would have found him, would connect him. Time was against them now more than it ever had been.

He looked across as Julie drove, the familiar profile constricting his heart as it ever had. Backlit by the fading strands of twilight, her skin formed a dark outline; her features veiled by shadow. The darkness hiding the fine lines and subtle changes that the intervening years had added. He held his breath as he had so many times in his youth. Staggered by the beauty that nature had designed to be perfect just for him. The sculpting of her profile was perfect, or maybe perfectly familiar, even after the passage of so much time.

He had known from the first moment he had seen her in the lobby of his apartment building Friday night that he was lost. Seeing her standing there had stunned him He had lived the moment so often, in his dreams, in his nightmares. He knew that he stood and stared, his mouth slightly open. He knew that somehow he managed to give instructions to Lloyd, and somehow without speaking he had managed to invite her back to his apartment. Slight gestures, body language had been enough, which was fortunate since the speech centres in his brain were not connected with the part of him that saw her. They were being controlled by someone else. Someone who could think clearly past the tightness in his chest, and the million tiny feet that were pounding through his abdomen. Someone who could make rational decisions and sort out cancelling his plans for the weekend. The Tony who saw her could do none of that, could barely fall into step behind her, as more than a decade of suppressed emotion scrambled to the surface.

He had somehow opened the door, held it for her to walk through, and followed her into the room. She stopped and turned and looked deep into his eyes, and there it was. The years of heartache, of pain, meant nothing, the betrayal unimportant. In that moment he knew that whatever had happened, whatever she had done, whatever she had said to him, he still loved her and he always would. His soul was capable of no less. Besides there was a large part of him that believed she had only spoken the truth; that believed he deserved it. It didn't matter. She was here now, and he knew that he would do anything for her, anything she asked. He took a step towards her and she smiled a weak smile at him. He knew that she had hurt him, knew that she would hurt him again, but he couldn't seem to care, not about himself.

"It's good to see you again," she said.

He nodded; still not sure that he could form words.

She looked around the apartment nervously. "You're doing well for yourself, I'm glad."

He nodded again.

She rubbed her hands together as his continued silence continued to unnerve her. "Look I . . .er. . . Maybe this was a mistake, maybe I should just go." She made a move to the door.

Tony panicked, screamed at himself to say something, to do something to stop her from leaving, to find out why she had come. Adrenaline crashed through his system allowing at least his body to respond in reflex; he stepped into the path that she tried to take around him. His hand raised in a stopping gesture. "No, please," he managed to force out.

She stopped and looked into his eyes once more. They were barely a foot apart now; the air seemed to tingle between them.

"Please," he repeated more calmly. "Tell me why you're here." His eyes searched her face for answers.

"I know I have no right to ask, you of all people, after what I did to you" she stated quietly, regretfully. "But you're my last chance, I need your help."

For the first time Tony saw the fear beneath the beauty, the sadness and pleading in the eyes. If she had been a stranger, he would have agreed to help her. A damsel in distress would always trigger his protective instincts, but this was no stranger. He loved her. He wrapped his arms around her and she moved into the embrace as though she were a drowning man grabbing for a life preserver. He felt her cling to him, felt the warmth and the vulnerability simultaneously, the closeness of the embrace so right. She needed him.

She needed him. He repeated the phrase to himself. Suppressed the nagging voice that told him once more that she would hurt him again. He was good at denial; he'd had plenty of practice.

"Of course I'll help you," his reply was almost whispered. "Whatever it takes, I'll help you."

The gentle shaking on his shoulder woke him from his slumber, and it took him a moment to orient himself; the images from his memory falling away to be replaced by the dark stillness of the woodland clearing.

"We're here." Julie stated. She turned to look at the cabin behind her. "I've parked as close as I can to the door. Do you think you can make it inside?"

Tony looked at the short distance and almost laughed, or was that almost cried. The distance was ludicrously small, but the truth was he didn't know if he could, and his own weakness scared him. "I'll make it," he said confidently, flashing a smile.

She stared at him a little unsure, but then nodded in acceptance as she moved to help him.

Should have been an actor, he told himself as he positioned his feet outside the door. Even the effort of that left him panting for breath, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin as he fought to ignore the pain. He took several breaths, as deep as his injured ribs would allow. Tried to prepare mentally and physically for the pain of standing, braced his hands against the doorframe and pushed himself to his feet. His preparation wasn't nearly enough, he made it upright but the pain stabbed through him like sharp daggers, driven in and twisted. The world spiralled into a darkening void and he pitched forward on to the dusty ground.


	13. Boy Scout Betrayed

**Chapter 13:- Boy Scout Betrayed.**

Gibbs stepped out of the room, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the corridor, absently rubbing the back of his neck to try to ease some of the tension that had been building for the last few hours. The interviews had been next to useless. It was as if Tony had been magically transported from the building; no one had seen anything. The only useful piece of information that anyone seemed to have was that his disappearance, either by luck or by design, and Gibbs gut instinct told him that it was the latter, had taken place when most of the nurses were in a regular team meeting, and so there had been minimal cover on the desk.

He hoped that the rest of the team had found something; he did not like dead ends, hated knowing so little. Not that he had any expectation that he would like anything they found any better.

He was about to go in search of coffee when Kate came out of the adjoining room. Her expression told him all he needed to know, as she thanked the nurse for her time and handed over a card, with the standard invitation to 'call if you think of anything;' her interviews had been no more fruitful than his own.

"Nobody saw anything," she stated as she approached, "Nothing and no one who stood out." She made a show of closing her notebook. "I've got the names and addresses of the nurses who were working this afternoon, but since Tony was still in his room for more than an hour after they went home it's unlikely that they'll be any help." She let out her own sigh of frustration. "If somebody took him then they did it very quietly."

Gibbs eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. "Nobody took him," he said quietly. "He left." Even with so little evidence Gibbs was forced to give voice to the conclusion he had drawn. He was sure that what the rest of the team would find would only confirm what he already knew.

Kate's instincts told her the same, but she didn't really want to believe it; that would mean that Tony was running away from them. Did he think they cared so little? Did he think they wouldn't help?

"He could barely stand," she stated, her best effort at refuting the suggestion, at hanging on to the idea that he had been taken from them rather than leaving of his own free will, although she was hard pressed to figure out why she thought that would be better.

"Then he had help." Gibbs reply was reasonable, his tone even, "and I think we both know who."

Kate eyes scanned his features, looking for some trace of uncertainty, some doubt, but there was none, he was sure and so was she. "But how?" she asked the second most pressing question. She had about given up for the time being on the why.

Gibbs shook his head. "Let's go find out what McGee and Abbey can tell us."

NCISNCIS

Tony woke, whether it was the cold or the irritation of the splashing, he couldn't be sure. He moved his arm, tried to bat away the source of irritation; the movement was jerky. Pain sliced through his ribs and he gasped for breath, as he crashed back to consciousness, and rode it out. His eyes blinked slowly open; lazily scanning for something that he could give form to; focussing was slow, orienting himself in the unfamiliar surroundings taking time.

The voice penetrated, his brain finally decoding the disjointed sounds. "Tony, thank God you're awake. I didn't know what to do I. . ."

He tried to move, tried to sit up to get a better look at the person who was speaking. She was a blur of brown.

"No!" the voice was sharp, as she turned back to face him, and he realised that the brown had been her hair. Soft hands restrained him. "Don't try to move, I don't want you to pass out on me again. Please just lie still."

Her features formed in the dim light and he relaxed back onto the pillows of the bed. "Sorry," he whispered softly, gingerly forcing the air from his lungs. He cleared his throat and tried again, a little louder. "I'm sorry I didn't mean. . ."

"Shhh," two fingers rested on his lips, "No talking I've been scared enough for one day." She stared at him for a moment. "You should have stayed in the hospital. You could have told me where the package was and I could. . ."

It was Tony's turn to interrupt. "No, it's too dangerous, I can't let you take the risk."

"Tony, look at you. This is my mess and look what they did to you. I'm the one who should be lying there, not you. Just tell me where the package is and I'll handle it from here. I'll take you back to the hospital and you can forget all about me again. It'll be as if this had never happened."

Tony shook his head. Refrained from pointing out that he couldn't forget all about her again, he had never forgotten her in the first place. "You know I can't do that, aside from anything else, my boss is involved now and he will investigate this whatever I do. I can't leave you alone in the middle of all this. I promised that I'd help you and I will."

Damn he was always such a boy scout, how could she have forgotten that? Julie almost screamed her frustration, had to turn away to avoid her expression giving her away. "I'll get you some water," she said by way of explanation, picking up the glass hurriedly, and hoping that he wouldn't notice that it was half full. She'd used only half of it, splashing his face in her impatience to get him to wake up. She'd already been waiting more than a day for his return. He'd refused to tell her anything until he was safely out of the hospital, and then he'd passed out before she got a chance to talk to him. It was fortunate that he had so many bruises, that he would have no way of noticing the extra one her kick of frustration had added to the collection when he went down.

Part of her wanted to turn back and have a go at beating the information out of him, although his current injuries testified to how unlikely that was to work. She repressed the urge. No, she would have to keep on playing the game for just a little bit longer. She stifled the sigh of frustration as she headed for the bathroom. It was tedious keeping up this act, pretending to be whimpering and helpless, but she had needed him. She still needed him. She swore softly at the thought, and looked up into the mirror as she rinsed and filled the glass. A wicked thought shot through her mind, and she watched her reflection break into a smile as she considered what she would do when she got her hands on the package. He had already cost her valuable time; she should have had it by now, and for that he would pay.

Why were all men so incompetent? The biggest score of her life and first her husband and now Anthony Dinozzo had taken their role in screwing it up. She hoped he had a good explanation; all he had assured her of so far was that the package was safe and that only he knew where it was, and so help her if he didn't get it for her soon. . . She plastered on her best look of concern and headed back to the bed. "Here," she said, helping to lift his head so that he could take a drink. "This should help, and then you can tell me exactly what happened."

NCISNCIS

Abby had run the last few paces to her computer, pulling her bag over her head as she did so, she let it fall to the floor, pulling it the last two feet with her fingertips as she finally let go and skidded to a halt, dropping into her seat. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she rapidly scanned the changing information. She paused it twice to read through it again, just to make sure that it said what she thought it said. Her already overly wide eyes widening more at the information.

McGee burst unceremoniously through the door. "Abby you'll never believe. . ." he paused as he read the changing information that was being relayed onto the larger screen in the centre of the room. "Or maybe you would," he completed, slowly.

They had finished the forensic sweep of Tony's hospital room together and had then, since Gibbs and Kate were still tied up in interviews, headed back together, McGee had gone to the bullpen to check his desk for messages, whilst Abby had returned to the lab.

Abby looked up and met his gaze, it told her all she needed to know. Somehow McGee had received the same information that she had. "We'd better contact Gibbs, tell him about this."

"Tell me about what?" Gibbs asked as he swept into the room, Kate in tow, with his usual impeccable timing.

"Well I set several database searches going before I headed out to the hospital to visit with Tony. . ."

"Abby," Gibbs allowed his frustration to show. Why couldn't people just get to the point? So much valuable time was wasted with unnecessary explanations.

"The bullets that I took out of Tony's vest came from a gun that belongs to a police officer, Detective Sergeant Will Adams. DC Homicide." Abby stated, without any further preamble.

"And," McGee chipped in; "Sergeant Adams is currently looking for Mrs Julie Simpson, in connection with the murder of her husband, one Mike Simpson."

Kate gave a small gasp as she turned to meet Gibbs gaze. "Tony's former best friend."


	14. Continuing The Lie

**Chapter 14:- Continuing the Lie**

Gibbs as usual gave no outward sign that the news had affected him; instead he started barking orders. "OK McGee."

"Yes, boss."

"I want to know everything that there is to know about Mike and Julie Simpson, from the day they were born until today, and then I want you to run through the CCTV footage from the hospital and Tony's building. See what you can find." He didn't wait for the nod of acknowledgement. "Kate, case files on the Mike Simpson case and a background on the investigating officers, particularly Detective Sergeant Will Adams. If he shot Tony then I want to know why. Abby. ."

"Way ahead of you, you want me to pull the forensic reports on the murder and double check the ballistics match on Sergeant Adams' gun and the bullets I pulled from Tony's vest."

Gibbs nodded, "And get the pathology report to Ducky to check out."

Gibbs geared up to shout another abrupt instruction. Something else he wanted doing, an assignment he would give to Dinozzo, except Dinozzo wasn't there. He stopped himself short of looking round for him but it was too late, somehow he'd betrayed his intention, and they'd all picked up on the slip; For a split second there was no movement, the tension in the room spiralled, . Gibbs diffused it the only way he could. "Well, what are we waiting for, an engraved invitation?"

"No boss."

"I'm on it."

"Right away Gibbs."

The three agents replied but did not make any efforts towards movement.

Gibbs drew in a deep breath, nodding at the replies, then without a backwards glance he turned and stalked off, leaving the other three stood in a semi-circle. They exchanged glances, but still nobody spoke.

It was Kate who finally broke the silence. "Gibbs is rattled!" she stated, a slight incredulous tone in her voice

Abby nodded. "And if Gibbs is rattled this is soo not good."

NCISNCIS

Tony accepted the water gratefully, although even the small effort of raising his head to drink it seemed to sap the limited reserves of energy he had. He fell the short distance back to the pillow. "So how long do we have left?" He asked quietly, ignoring for the moment Julie's own request for information.

Julie's brow creased in confusion "Left?"

Tony drew in a shallow breath; it was the most he could manage. He looked down, acutely aware that his own efforts, all that he'd endured, could ultimately prove fruitless. Not that he'd had much choice in the actions that he'd taken, but time had always been against them, he'd known that. He'd just been avoiding the question, because if he was too late, he didn't really want to know the answer.

He couldn't avoid it any longer though. He looked up into Julie's eyes again, barely controlling the fear. "To save him, how long did they give us?"

Julie's mind worked quickly, it had to, to cover the almost slip. In all the delay and frustration of the last twenty four hours she had almost forgotten the lie that she had used to get Tony to help her in the first place.

She had known from the moment she saw him in the lobby of his apartment building that he would help her. The way he stared at her told her all she needed to know, but still she had played him, following him back to his apartment, almost leaving so he was forced to ask her to stay, and the tears, they had been a master stroke, but then she'd always been able to cry on demand. Ever since she was little, it had always worked on her father, had gotten her exactly what she wanted, and on every man since, but especially on Tony. He'd have done anything she wanted once, probably still would.

The lie she had told had therefore probably been unnecessarily complicated, she could possibly have gotten away with just asking him to do what she wanted and ask no questions, but she couldn't risk him saying no, so she had gone with her original plan.

She had broken away from the embrace and moved to sit on the couch, seemingly reluctant to look him in the eye. It had been truly a performance worthy of an Oscar. She had recanted the sorry tale of how her husband had fallen on hard times and had looked for an easy way out of his financial problems; of how he had arranged for an item, she claimed not to know what it was, to be smuggled into the country and delivered to him. He had told her that selling this item on would solve all of their money worries. They would be more than free from debt; they would have money to buy the things they wanted. That was when everything had gone wrong.

"They took him," she said, barely containing the tears again. As she once more forced Tony to pry the information out of her. It made the lie that much more convincing.

"They?" Tony asked.

"I don't know who they are. They thought the item had already been delivered. When Mike didn't have it they sent a message to me, saying they'll kill him if I don't get the package and hand it over."

Tony let out a breath and made to stand. "I gotta call this in."

"No!" the exclamation was sharp. "Please, they said they'd kill him if I went to the authorities."

Tony sat down again taking her hand in his, trying to be as gentle as possible with his next statement. "They'll probably kill him anyway, whether you hand the package over or not. That's why we need to get the police involved. I still have some friends on the force I can make some calls. . ."

"No," Julie stated again. "You don't understand, whatever is in that package it's worth a fortune, and the police can't be trusted. Mike told me that two cops have been hassling him. . ."

"But if he was doing something illegal?"

"That's just it, they didn't want to arrest him, they wanted to get their hands on the package for themselves." She choked back a sob, "They've already been to see me; they threatened me too, said if I knew what was good for me, I'd make sure that Mike gave them the package. They said. . .they said that I wouldn't live to regret it if I didn't" She met and held Tony's gaze. "That's how come I ended up here. I knew that you probably never wanted to see me again, but I don't have anyone else I can turn to. I don't know anyone else I can trust. Please, you have to help me. You have to help Mike or I'm sure they'll kill him." She dissolved into sobs at this point, and once again Tony took her into his arms. She counted slowly in her head to thirty allowing the tears to flow before finally pushing back and blinking tear filled eyes. "I need your help to get the package and deliver it, without getting anyone else involved." She paused for a beat. "If you can't do it I'll understand, I'll find another way, I'll leave. . ." she left the rest of the sentence hanging.

Tony considered it, rapidly piecing together the various courses of action open to him, and their consequences, but ultimately he knew he didn't have a choice. If Gibbs ever found out what he was about to do then he was a dead man, not to mention the fact that he could well be without a career. Still he had the whole weekend, maybe he could have it sorted out before Monday, then no one at work would have to know.

"OK, so where's the package now?"

The lie had worked; Tony had agreed to help, it should have been easy from there, but she still didn't have the package and Tony still wasn't telling her where it was. So now she had to perpetuate the lie a little longer. "When you didn't come back Sunday I sent them a message, stalled them. I told them that the delivery had been delayed, that I couldn't get to it." At least that part was true, that was why she needed Tony in the first place. She paused and drew in a breath. "They gave me 72 hours."

Tony allowed a weak sigh, relieved that he wasn't too late. "Good, so we still have a little time."

She nodded, trying not to appear too eager with the next question. "So where is it now? What did you do with it?"

Tony smiled, the action he had taken was the only thing he was proud of himself for in this whole sorry mess. "I forwarded it."

Julie blinked hard. "You did what?" She tried hard to control her frustration that was rapidly building back to anger. She wanted to scream, to call him every name she could think of, to continue where the people who had beaten him had left off. Of all the stupid. . . .The thought wasn't quite complete before the spoken questions began "Whatever possessed. . .? Why on earth. . .?"

Tony's own expression sobered as he interrupted, "They were waiting for me outside, I'm not sure who they were but they were watching, waiting, obviously a different group to the ones who're holding Mike. I spotted them on the way in, and trust me when I say that if I'd had that package when I left the building, they would have it now, and we'd have no chance of saving Mike." He paused, talking was difficult, seemed like it was too much effort against the wearing pain that sapped his strength with every breath. The drugs that lingered in his system seemed to be clawing at him, attempting to drag him back into oblivion, where at least there may be some relief. He fought against the exhaustion to keep going. "They picked me up outside. They hit me pretty hard so I think I was out for a while. When I came round they asked me a few questions." There he went with the understatements again, but he couldn't, wouldn't tell her how bad it had been.

He couldn't help it, his mind flashed back to the memory. The smell of seawater and grease and musty cloth seemed to once again assault his senses.

"What's your name?"

"Mike Simpson," except it wasn't

"Where is your wife?"

"I don't know," except he did.

A painful blow to the abdomen would have doubled him over if he wasn't being held. He was given a moment to draw in several sharp breaths

"Where is the package?"

"What package."

Another blow, this time to the back, less time to recover from the pain before the next question.

"What did you put into the post? Who did you send it to?"

"It was a letter to my mother."

The reward for his sarcasm was always the hardest blow of all, the most painful, and then it began again.

"What is your name?"

He amused himself for a while giving different replies to the last question. "My Christmas list for Santa." "The cheque for my subscription to playboy?" "A letter to CBS asking them to bring back Gilligan's island." "A letter to Amnesty international in support of their no torturing of prisoners policy." Eventually however, he lost the will to even do that, instead just attempting to ride out the waves of pain

"Tony?"

The worried voice dragged him back from the memory. He looked up into concerned eyes, and moistened his dry lips. "Eventually I think I must have passed out on them ,and they left me. They must have considered me to be too badly hurt to worry about because they didn't bother to tie me up. Big mistake." He grinned ferally, taking his revenge on the guard who had been left to watch him had been brief, a single blow had taken the man down, but it had felt good. The feeling was short lived; he still had to escape. Taking out one man when you had surprise on your side was a far cry from dealing with the four thugs who had been using him as a punch bag for the last few hours.

Thus the stagger out to the car, inching himself down corridors and around corners as his heart beat double time in his chest, was a study in fear and desperation. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that he couldn't take any more. He was close to his breaking point and he knew it. That knowledge fuelled the adrenaline that kept him going until he finally emerged into the cold moonless night. He had almost cried with relief when he had seen the rental car he had been using, even more so when he'd found the doors open. Trembling fingers completed the hot wire and he was finally away, not allowing himself even the smallest acknowledgement of relief until he was sure that no one followed.

He couldn't describe the fear, didn't want to acknowledge the desperation of the escape. He swallowed. He glossed over it. "There was only one guard left watching me. I took my chance and made it out. I headed to my apartment and called you."

"Why didn't you tell me what they did to you.. .How bad. . "

"I didn't want you to worry." Tony stated.

She couldn't help the sarcasm of the reply. "Well that worked, when I didn't hear from you for more than twelve hours. . "

"I'm sorry."

She didn't want his apology she just wanted the package. She reined her anger back in a little. Steadied her voice. "So who did you mail it to?"

"A good friend. They'll look after it for me."

"Who?"

"Don't worry it'll be delivered in the morning then we'll go and get it together."

This time it took every ounce of self-control that Julie possessed to avoid hitting him, to avoid screaming at him that he should just tell her where the damn package was. That she didn't need his help; didn't need his protection. She had already killed to get her hands on the contents, would do again if she had to, but she knew that she couldn't do that, she couldn't show her hand, couldn't risk him refusing to cooperate. She had come too far, had done too much, to throw it all away now. If she just waited, continued the lie, then he would lead her to it.

She glanced down at the water in her hand and a small smile played on her lips. There were more subtle ways she could vent her frustration. "More water?" She offered guilelessly.

Tony nodded gratefully lifting his head from the pillows a little as she helped him.

It only took a slight jerk of her hand. She pulled the cup away, apologizing profusely as she watched the result with a perverse satisfaction.

The water emptied just that touch too quickly into Tony's mouth, and he began to choke, triggering an automatic coughing response. Broken and cracked ribs were forced to move with a violence that required torn tissue and abused muscles to respond beyond their current capacity. White hot tendrils of agony spiked out from his rib cage, wiping all conscious thought, as the pain seemed to take complete possession of everything that was him. Muscles spasmed as each cough shook his system, the pain hitting unbearable levels until finally he passed out, dropping back onto the bed, weak coughs still shaking him.

Julie shook her head, putting the glass of water down. "I'm so sorry," she said, brushing the hair away from Tony's closed eyes. "And look, you didn't even get a proper drink. I'll have to give you some more later."


	15. Cabin Fever

Author's note:- Thanks for the wonderful feedback-it continues to be greatly appreciated and inspirational- Hope you enjoy- Judith

**Chapter 15 Cabin Fever.**

McGee yawned and stretched up with one arm, and to the side with the other. The information and files Gibbs had asked for had taken him until after 2 a.m. to assemble. There hadn't been much point in going home after that. He had after all, assured Gibbs that he would meet miss Van Der Kamp as soon as she got off the plane at 6 a.m., which necessitated getting a very early start following on from a non-existent finish. He'd caught at best a couple of hours at his desk before grabbing a quick shower. Kate and Gibbs had both gone home at some point but he had no doubt they would be back in early too, they had so much to work on. Most cases were spent chasing scant sources of information, but with this one they were in information overload. The trouble was finding time to put it all together and follow up on what they knew.

He stifled another yawn and lazily checked his watch, his mind on the hours of CCTV footage that Gibbs still wanted him to check through. He was idly wandering whether the word 'footage' would be replaced, once film and tape became obsolete as everything switched to digital recording, or would it become one of those idiosyncrasies of language that perpetuated long after its origins became obscure, when he caught sight of her.

Stunning was quite literally the correct adjective and it took a moment for McGee to realise that his mouth, which had paused open mid yawn, was still in fly catching position. He closed it quickly with an audible click from his jaw as he attempted to recover his composure. She was almost past him before he recovered enough to move. He scrambled across to intercept her path, not quite making it; he cleared his throat loudly. "Miss Van Der Kamp?"

She turned, her features softening to a smile of greeting, and, impossible though it seemed, she looked even more attractive. "Yes, can I help you?"

The little composure he'd managed was quickly lost; speaking to strangers wasn't one of his strong points, he was far happier dealing with machines, and sometimes he wondered why he wanted so desperately to be a field agent when it placed him in this position on a fairly regular basis. Well, not quite this position, he wasn't often dispatched to interview stunningly attractive strangers at the crack of dawn, when he'd only managed to grab a couple of hours sleep, but the talking to strangers bit was a fairly regular recurrence. Whatever he was going to say was quickly lost in a jumble of mixed thoughts and impulses. "I. . .er. . . Ah. . . " He started, flustered. Forced to employ his own particular coping strategy; he paused, closed his mouth and inhaled sharply through his nose. Holding his badge up he introduced himself "Special Agent Tim McGee NCIS, I was wandering if I might. . ."

He got no further as Tiffany's expression changed to a thunderous scowl. " Oh no, if that rat Tony Dinozzo has sent you here to make excuses for him. . ." Repressed anger boiled to the surface quickly as she stepped forward, her finger pointing, she took a deep breath building up for an explosion, but clearly couldn't think of a way to complete the thought, or at least not one that didn't involve large quantities of bad language. Abruptly she turned and began to walk away.

McGee scrambled to follow, almost bumping into her as she turned on him again.

"I mean first he pesters me for weeks to join him at this 'perfect'," the word was spat with venom, "little cabin out in the wilds, and then he cancels on me five minutes before he's due to pick me up, but can he make the phone call himself?" There wasn't even a pause for breath, let alone time to answer. "Oh no, he got some lackey at his building to call me. 'So sorry, Tony has to work.' Well I don't believe that for a minute, and now he doesn't even have the guts to apologise for himself, he sends you. Well that's. . ."

"Miss Van Der Kamp," McGee interrupted, his tone remarkably firm. All vestiges of his former flustered state gone. It was enough to stop Tiffany mid sentence. "Agent Dinozzo, Tony didn't send me."

"Oh," Tiffany's demeanor shifted again. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have assumed . . " She paused, clearly considering her reaction. "Why are you here then. What can I possibly have done to warrant a visit from NCIS?"

"Well it is connected with your relationship with Agent Dinozzo." McGee stated, choosing his words carefully so that he did not provoke another tirade. "I'm afraid he's in trouble and we're hoping that you can help us to help him."

Any animosity that had been evident at earlier mentions of Tony quickly disappeared to be replaced by a look of concern. "Trouble?" she repeated the word, paling slightly. "What kind of trouble? Is he all right?"

McGee looked around, they had attracted a small audience. "Look is there somewhere we could go to talk?" He glanced around again, "somewhere a little more private?"

Tiffany nodded. "Come with me."

McGee was only human; he couldn't help but admire the view as he followed Tiffany along the concourse to a small row of offices. The tight fitting and not overly long uniform skirt left little to the imagination, Tony would have been proud. Kate would have rolled her eyes and called his name in that disapproving voice that she'd mastered, and Abby. . . Well, Abby would have followed his gaze and made some comment about it only being natural since Tiffany was definitely 'hot', but he kinda hoped that there would be just a little disapproval in her tone too. All of these thoughts drifted through his mind as they walked and then entered the small office.

As Tiffany turned to lean against the desk his eyes were drawn hypnotically to her legs as his brain tried to orient them to the picture. . .

"It's an advanced yoga position." Tiffany stated.

McGee looked up surprised as the sound of her voice pulled him back to reality. "I. . .er. . . I . . .what?" he returned to the flustered state of earlier.

Tiffany smiled a bright smile. "The picture on Tony's PDA, It's a picture of me doing an advanced yoga position."

McGee felt like a small boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. He flushed bright red. Damn had he been that obvious in what he was looking at. . . .? Obviously he had. "I'm sorry I. . ."

"Oh don't apologise," Tiffany stated. "I let Tony put it on there for a joke. There was a co-worker called Kate that he wanted to annoy with it. . ."

McGee nodded his understanding, allowing a slight smile as he remembered her reaction, and wondering exactly how Tony had planned to let her see it. His thoughts sobered, one thing that he was fairly sure of was that Tony's plans hadn't borne any resemblance to the way his partner had actually come to see it. "Yes well it would. ..er did….er. .does meet with her disapproval."

Tiffany shifted on the desk. "But you're not here to ask me about my photograph?"

McGee shook his head. "No, No I'm not."

The interview lasted twenty minutes, it only took ten for McGee to establish that Tiffany probably didn't know anything of relevance to the case, but, and again here Tony would have been proud of him, McGee was finding chatting with Tiffany incredibly pleasant, so he made the questioning last a little longer than necessary. She was beautiful and intelligent and her smile was radiant. It was definitely putting a much brighter spin on having had so little sleep in order to make this interview.

She had not, however heard or seen anything that could help them. The only contact she had had Friday night was with Lloyd when he'd rung to cancel on Tony's behalf and she'd been so mad that she'd switched shifts and was headed out of the country within a couple of hours.

For completeness McGee obtained the location of the cabin where Tony had been intending to spend the weekend. There was no record of any rental because it belonged to a friend of Tony's father, who spent the winter months living down in California, and so only used it over the summer. He let Tony use it, and Tony checked on maintenance and security in return. McGee didn't think the information was of any use, but Gibbs had asked him to find it out, so he dutifully made a record of it for the case file.

NCISNCIS

Julie yawned and checked her watch, cursing softly that it was still only six am. The night had seemed to drag forever and if she had to spend many more hours in this Godforsaken cabin. . .Still, it was a while yet before it would be worthwhile making a move. Delivery was only guaranteed before noon, and, although she didn't relish the thought of more sitting around with nothing to do but wait, the prospect of arriving to find that the package still wasn't there, that she wouldn't be able to get her hands on it, could lead to violence that she might regret.

She pushed herself to her feet; it was time to play the doting nurse again. She had spent a little over twenty minutes with Tony during the course of the night. But she had wanted to give him the impression that it was much longer. She wanted him to believe that she was there for him, watching over him. If he got even remotely suspicious about her motives or intentions then there was always the chance that he wouldn't tell her where the package was. That he would try to stop her. Not that he was in much of a condition to do that. So she had made sure that whenever she went to replace the cool cloth from his forehead, she always woke him up. Stayed until she was sure that he had at least been aware of her presence and had drifted back to sleep before leaving him alone again.

She moved through into the bedroom and bent to retrieve the cloth, surprised by its warmth as she picked it up. She stopped from what had been intended to be a casual glance as she pulled the cloth away and instead paused to study Tony carefully. The red flush in otherwise overly pale cheeks did not bode well. She dropped her hand onto the skin of his face. Damn, it was far too warm; he was running a fever.

She moved quickly to the bathroom, pulling open drawers until she found the first aid kit she had seen on earlier explorations. She opened it, and routing through it retrieved the thermometer, pausing only to get a little cold water on the cloth before moving back to Tony's side.

In Tony's pain filled world Julie's strategy had worked perfectly. To him it seemed that she was always there. Cooling cloths and gentle soothing touches accompanied her presence. She had been there each time he had awoken, so in his mind she had never left his side.

"Tony?"

His name penetrated but he did not want to acknowledge it at first. His mind had only two states at the moment, pain or oblivion. He much preferred oblivion, but the voice was insistent. He opened his eyes; tried and failed to force a smile. "Julie," he spoke softly, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, as he attempted to orient himself on his surroundings. Was there any part of him that didn't hurt?

"Shh," Julie said, "Don't try to speak, not until you've had a drink, but first I need you to put this in your mouth for me." She held the thermometer up into his line of vision and he gave a small nod as she placed it under his tongue.

Forgetting her admonishment to stay silent, he spoke as she pulled the thermometer from his mouth and turned it so she could read it. "I do feel kinda hot."

Julie stared at the reading and cursed again. 101.6 degrees. This was not good, not good at all.

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .


	16. Morning Has Broken

**Chapter 16:- Morning Has Broken**

Kate strode purposefully into the lab, stopping as she caught sight of Abby engrossed in the fast moving images on her computer screen. She scanned the room looking for the real object of her search, before her eyes came back to rest on her friend. She now felt a little like an intruder, a trespasser. Her intent had not been to interrupt Abby, but it was going to be the inevitable result of her coming here, into what was Abby's territory in every respect. The lab was there to serve the needs of the team, but it was Abby's.

"Hey Kate, What can I do for ya?" Abby asked, hitting the pause button before turning.

"I was looking for Gibbs," Kate stated, a little sheepishly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No problem," Abby stated, "I could use a break. I was going a little square eyed anyway. A few hundred hours of surveillance footage showing the same thing from different angles will do that to ya." She stood up and stretched before reaching for the large container of Kaf Pow that stood to one side. She pulled a face as she took a sip. "This could do with a little refreshing too." With barely a break she switched tracks. "I haven't seen him since 6am when he called in for the ballistics report."

"Early start," Kate stated. She had been in since 6.30 herself, but that could have been earlier if she hadn't forced herself to take a proper shower and eat breakfast. There was no telling how long the day was going to be.

"Or late finish, guess he couldn't sleep."

None of them could, not properly, not while Tony was in danger, not while he was missing. Their eyes met with an uncomfortable intensity as repressed emotion almost broke through to the surface. The eye contact lasted barely a second but seemed much longer, as the mutual concern was shared and understood, but they both knew that they could not function if they let it out. It was Kate who broke away first, turning to look at the plasma screen that mirrored the output on Abby's.

"So have you found anything?" She asked as much as a distraction as a request for information.

"Oh yes," Abby stated moving back to her keyboard. "I've been concentrating on the hospital footage. McGee's working on Tony's apartment building. They only have cameras in some of the hallways and on the entrances and exits. Here is Mrs Julie Simpson, arriving to pick up Tony."

The screen showed a woman wearing dark glasses entering through the main lobby. Abby hit a few keys and the image progressively zoomed in, until the face almost filled it. It was unmistakebly the same woman from the surveillance cameras at Tony's building. "Tony left with her some twenty minutes later," Abby said, as her fingers moved once more, and the image switched to one of the same woman pushing a wheelchair.

Kate let out a small gasp. She wasn't sure if it was from concern or dismay. She had expected somehow to see Tony walking out of the hospital. Despite the fact that, from what she knew of his injuries, the idea that he could just get up and walk out was absurd, she had still somehow expected to see it. Because if he walked away then he was OK, he would be OK, but if Tony had to be wheeled out of there. . . If he was so injured, hurting so much that he allowed someone to push him, then. . . .She had to suppress all further thoughts along that line. Had to. She swallowed, setting her jaw. "Why?" The question left her lips unbidden. She certainly didn't expect an answer.

Abby's reply was uncharacteristically subdued, reflective. "Ducky and Gibbs think that Tony's trying to keep us out of it. Like he doesn't want us to get involved in case we get hurt."

Kate let out a snort that was almost derisive. "We dodge bullets for a living. Whatever it is, Tony should know that we can handle it."

"Well technically it's just you field agents dodging the bullets," Abby corrected, "but the point is, normally you dodge bullets with Tony, not for Tony," the emphasis was heavily on the prepositions.

"But still," Kate began to argue, even as her mind processed the logic of the assertion. She trailed off, her mind working rapidly. "I don't know," she stated, sounding a little more uncertain of her position. She looked back at the screen. "I've just never seen Tony as the 'fall on your sword' kinda guy." She stared at the now still image, if what Abby was saying was true then in his current state of health that was exactly what Tony would be doing, sacrificing himself for them.

Could someone who came across as so egocentric, so self-serving as Tony, really be prepared to give up himself to save others? The answers were there Kate had just never thought about them explicitly, had never given them verbal form. Implicitly she had to have known those answers, or she would never have trusted him with her life.

"Really?" Abby asked. "So, picture the scenario, you are trapped in a burning building, no hope of getting out. Tony's standing safe outside and he hears you scream. What does he do?"

Kate didn't hesitate in her reply. "He runs into the building to try to get to me."

Abby grinned, but barely paused for a beat. "Scenario number two; you are being held by kidnappers and you've been hurt. Tony's trying to negotiate for your release but they'll only accept another hostage. What does he do?"

"Volunteers to take my place." Kate stated, again without hesitation.

"Even if it means certain death for whoever the kidnappers take as a replacement?" Abby asked, relishing her role.

"Yes," Kate nodded, "Even if it means certain death."

"Okay, scenario number three. . . "

"All right," Kate interrupted, " You've made your point. Tony is that kind of guy, even though he does his best to hide it." She sighed. "It's just. . ." She let the sentence trail, had no idea how to complete it. It wasn't 'just' anything. It was serious, it was dangerous, and whatever was going on it would probably cost her partner his life.

Abby looked up at the screen. "I know what you mean."

NCISNCIS

"Ahh Jethro I was wondering when you would get here." Ducky stated, looking up as Gibbs strode in through the path lab doors. "I was just keeping myself busy with Mr. Patterson here whilst I was waiting for you." He turned his attention to the corpse in front of him. "I'm dreadfully sorry my dear boy, but I'm going to have to leave you for a little while, but don't worry, I'll be back."

Mister Patterson was barely old enough to deserve the title, an eighteen year old naval cadet who had taken his own life, and as such Ducky felt that extra duty of care for him. Needing to give him that dignity in death that he clearly had not been able to feel in life. Ducky patted him gently on the shoulder before turning his attention to an obviously impatient Gibbs, but if Ducky noticed the impatience, he did not respond to it.

"I got one of the neighbours to sort out breakfast for mother so that I could come in early, I normally don't like to ask, it seems such an imposition but since these are somewhat exceptional circumstances. . ."

"Ducky," Gibbs finally interrupted, having exercised all of the control that he could manage. "Have you had a chance to look at the report?"

Ducky completed the last few paces to his desk pulling off his gloves before picking up the ubiquitous manila folder. He let out a nasal hum as he opened the file. "It makes rather grisly reading. Mike Simpson was stabbed a total of forty seven times in what looks like a frenzied attack. At least some of the wounds were inflicted post mortem. When the body was found the knife was still sticking out of his chest." He looked up at Gibbs. "The cause of death was massive blood loss, resulting in cardiac arrest, before the knife took up it's final resting place."

Gibbs face was its usual mask. "Any conclusions about the person who did it?"

"From the angle of the blows, he or she was almost certainly right handed. Also from their position it seems that our perpetrator was shorter than the victim." He placed the file on the desk so that Gibbs could see the photographs of the wounds. "Add to that the fact that most of the blows were quite shallow indicating a lack of strength behind them, and it leads to the conclusion that our most likely suspect would be a woman." Ducky paused, meeting and holding Gibbs gaze. When he spoke again his voice was quieter, conveying his concern. "I've only ever seen wounds like these inflicted a few times before," he stated. "The person responsible in each case was either high on some form of drug, or suffering from some sort of mental disorder."

"Like schizophrenia," Kate stated from behind.

They both turned, neither man had heard her enter.

"I've looked at the case," she pointed down at the folder, "and as a profiler I'd have to agree, whoever killed Mike Simpson was in the sort of blind rage that usually accompanies severe delusions, and," she stated, getting to the information that she had been searching for Gibbs to pass on. "I've just found out that Julie Markham's mother suffered from severe psychotic episodes. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia a couple of years before she killed herself. Julie was only thirteen when it happened." She paused, her eyes moving to meet Gibbs'. "She was the one who found the body."

Gibbs stared at her for a moment as the muscles in his stomach tensed uncomfortably, his mind rapidly processing the implications of these latest findings. "So you think Julie suffers from schizophrenia like her mother."

"There is a proven genetic susceptibility, which can be inherited," Ducky supplied. "Women who develop the disease usually start to show symptoms between the ages of twenty five and thirty."

Gibbs looked from Ducky back to Kate. "Tony's spent the last few days with her, surely he would have noticed something?" He asked the question hoping that the answer would refute what his gut was telling him had happened, hoping to be reassured that 'Of course Tony would have noticed' and ' of course he wouldn't leave the hospital to go and help a psychotic killer' but even before either of his colleagues spoke he knew that he would not be getting those reassurances.

"It depends on the form the disease takes, particularly in the early stages, most of the time the person appears perfectly normal, they may not exhibit any symptoms." Kate stated, successfully maintaining her professional façade only by blocking all other thoughts.

Gibbs swallowed uncomfortably.

"Yes," Ducky agreed drawing the word out. "Schizophrenia is a very misunderstood condition. It seldom takes the form of the multiple layered personalities that you see portrayed in the media, and schizophrenics are seldom violent. They are more likely to hurt themselves that others, but when they do turn violent. . . ." He looked down again at the case file. "Now I remember what this reminds me of; I read a case study in the British Medical journal once. A seemingly normal 15 year old girl stabbed her aunt to death with a kitchen knif,e because she wouldn't lend her the money to have liposuction. She wanted to become a model and her aunt's refusal to give her the money she felt she needed to fulfil what she thought was her destiny, sent her into a homicidal rage. When she'd finished she made herself a cup of tea before cleaning herself up, taking the money and leaving. When she was asked about it later she couldn't see that she had done anything wrong." He paused looking up again from the photographs. "There were no obvious symptoms before that either family or friends could recall."

Gibbs nodded. He looked at Kate again. "Is there any evidence actually linking her with the murder of her husband?" he asked. Again hoping that her answer would leave some room for doubt, some hope that Tony was right to try to help this woman.

Kate met his gaze, concern shining in her eyes. She had had a little more time to consider the implications of her findings. Her skills at emotional suppression not as developed as Gibbs' were working overtime just to keep her functioning. "You mean aside from her fingerprints all over the murder weapon, and her bloodstained clothing in the washing basket at their apartment?"

NCISNCIS

Tony watched the frown form on Julie's face as she read the thermometer "Not good huh?" he asked, trying hard to force a smile.

Julie didn't answer straight away. She continued to stare at the thermometer, unmoving; the world around her clearly not registering. It was almost as if someone had hit a pause button; for almost a minute there was nothing, and then the return was abrupt, like a resume play. Tony found it disconcerting. It wasn't the fact that she had drifted off, everybody did that at some time or other, being lost in thought or daydreaming wasn't uncommon. It was the fact that she didn't seem to register at all that it had happened. It really was like a pause in the program.

"You have a fever," Julie stated, lowering the thermometer. She looked him in the eye, registering his own concerned expression. She could see the pain etched on his features, could see how it was wearing at him. "You should have stayed in hospital." She stated, allowing a moment of genuine concern. If he stayed here he would die.

He deserved to die, for what he had done to her, for making her hate him. He had made her hate him by loving her. She didn't want him, didn't want what he was. He was too good for her.

No, she was too good for him, she didn't want him, didn't need him.

He wanted her, needed her, loved her.

The need made her hate him; the want made her hate him; the love made her hate him.

It was his fault, it had been his fault then, it was his fault now.

He was stopping her from getting the package. She deserved the package, he should tell her where it was. He had to tell her where it was.

She could make him.

No.

Better to persuade him, for now; just persuade him.

The cascade of thoughts took a fraction of a second, confused disordered, jumbled non-sequiturs that to her made perfect sense. Her expression did not change despite the diametric shift in her attitude toward him. She was too skilled in keeping her feelings hidden, in portraying to the world only what she wanted her audience to see, to give away her emotions in such an obvious way as changing her facial expression. "You need antibiotics, something for the pain," She stated her concern, no longer real, just a means to an end.

"I'll be OK," Tony stated stubbornly.

Julie shook her head. "No you're hurt and you're sick and it's because of me. You need to stay here and rest. Tell me where the package is and I'll go get it and then this whole nightmare will be over."

Tony shook his head. "We still have to get Mike back."

Julie almost laughed, almost told him of the lie; his concern was so genuine, so pitiful. 'Don't you know Mike's already dead?' "Just tell me where the package is?" She asked softly. "The first step is getting the package."

Tony shook his head, forcing himself against the grinding pain into a sitting position. "It's no good, even if I tell you," he stated. "Without me there's no way they'll give it to you."

NCISNCIS

Ducky looked from Kate to Gibbs and back again, the concern was almost palpable even though he knew that neither would put it into words. They both looked as weary as he felt. "Look," he stated, trying to come up with some comfort in the gloom of their speculation; speculation that felt all too much like fact. "Even if what we suspect about her is true. Anthony is trying to help her, is he not?"

He waited until at least Kate gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Then he should be all right, as long as he's helping her to get what she wants. He's only in danger if he somehow obstructs her. As long as she thinks he's helping her he'll be fine."

Gibbs turned to look at him. "Then we'd better all pray that he doesn't find out that she's using him."


	17. The Camera Never Lies

**Chapter 17: The Camera Never Lies**

Gibbs strode purposefully into the lab, not that he ever went anywhere without purpose in his stride. "You got something for us Abby?"

"No," Abby began, "At least not beyond. . .

"Then why," Gibbs interrupted, gesturing to Kate who had followed him up from autopsy. "Are we here?"

"Because McGee has something," Abby stated, not phased in the slightest by Gibbs abrupt behaviour. She, like the rest of the team was far too used to it, even on normal cases, and this case was anything but. She turned to McGee, who cleared his throat.

He touched the remote in his hand and the plasma screen in the middle of the room faded to a view of a dimly lit parking garage. "OK I have Tony entering and leaving the building on three separate occasions." He paused momentarily before correcting himself. "That is, he left three times and he returned three times, if you don't include when he set out for work Monday morning, which would technically make it four but he didn't return on that occasion so. . ."

"McGee!" Gibbs tone had that dangerous, 'I'm just about ready to rip your head off' edge to it that he was so good at.

McGee swallowed nervously but took the hint. "The first time was Saturday at 11. 05 a.m." The screen flickered slightly and then Tony and Julie entered the shot, moving to his car. "Tony puts on his vest before he leaves." McGee continued to provide a running commentary to the actions on the screen, as Tony quickly stripped and placed the protective vest beneath his shirt, redressing before climbing into the car. "They return at just before 1.pm."

The screen flickered slightly again, and the timecode in the bottom corner flipped forward just under two hours. Tony's car drove back into the spot they had just watched it vacate and there were a few moments of stillness before he climbed out. It was obvious when he did that there was something wrong with the way he was moving; his actions were stiff, jerky. Julie jumped from her seat and ran round to his door clearly offering help but he waved her off. He stood with some effort; one arm moving protectively across his chest before he headed out of camera shot, Julie following nervously behind.

"So," Gibbs stated as he eyed the screen, "We know that he was shot somewhere between eleven and one on Saturday and we know who by, we just don't know the why."

"Or the where?" Kate interjected.

Gibbs turned his best glare on her.

"I'm just saying that if we knew where the shooting had happened it would give us a better indication of the why."

Gibbs head tipped to one side slightly. "Probably," he turned his head back to face McGee. "What else you got?"

"He returns to his car at 2.57." The screen showed the lights on the car flash first before Tony entered the shot as he operated the remote central locking. He opened the trunk and dropped the vest inside, pausing to finger the two holes in the front, his whole body freezing for a moment, before he moved on.

Gibbs and Kate recognised the gesture, the moment of examination where you confronted your own mortality. Anyone who'd ever taken a bullet to a vest had first hand experience of that moment when you touched that hole in the fabric that could so easily have been your own flesh, and considered the 'what ifs' in all the technicolour gory detail that your mind would allow. It was a moment you could not afford to dwell on. Gibbs jaw twitched. Kate swallowed as they watched.

"Having placed his vest back in the trunk he leaves. This time he's alone and away for much longer. He doesn't return until 8.23 p.m."

Again the timecode on the screen jumped forward and Tony's car rolled back into its space. This time when Tony exited the vehicle he was moving with much more ease although there was some residual stiffness.

"This is all very interesting McGee, but if we don't know where he went when he left how is any of this helping?" Gibbs asked tersely. It wasn't that he didn't understand the value of a timeline for events, he was just at a loss to see why what he was being shown had had McGee and Abby so excited, and the call had certainly been more than just a 'come up for a routine report.' As ever he was keen to get to the crowd pleaser.

"There's no activity then," McGee continued. "Until 11am the next day, but Tony stops using his own car." The image jumped again this time to an entirely different camera shot, a different part of the parking structure. Tony was standing waiting as a brown sedan pulled up in front of him. He exchanged pleasantries with the young man who exited the vehicle and took the keys from him in exchange for his signature, and, from the young man's reaction, what looked like a fairly sizeable tip.

"The cars a rental," McGee explained, "The young man is called Peter Coyle; he works for DC rentals, he was paid to deliver the car to Tony's apartment building for an indefinite hire period, but the interesting thing is who he thought he delivered the car to?" He paused expectantly, waiting for the question, it was his big moment after trawling through hours of mind numbingly boring footage, and he wanted to relish the revelation slightly. Not that he could contain his excitement "You'll never guess?" he added.

Gibbs had had too little sleep and was dealing with a steady spiral of emotion that churned from frustration to fear to anger to concern and back to frustration again; a never-ending loop that belied his normal ability to suppress. As such he tended to dwell on the anger, he could control that, use that, but it meant that he was even more snappy than usual, and if you asked most of the team they would have told you that that wasn't really possible. He was certainly in no mood for playing the game. He pinched his nose just between the eyes and let out a short sigh. "You're right McGee I will never guess." He stated dropping his hand and turning his scowl on McGee. "Because you are going to tell me. . .now"

McGee swallowed and physically backed away a little from the withering gaze that Gibbs gave him. "Yes boss, the erm. . .the er car was rented in the name of Mike Simpson, paid for with Simpson's credit card. Tony even showed a driving licence in the name of Mike Simpson to Coyle when he dropped the car off."

The scowl dropped instantly from Gibbs face and he turned back to face the screen. "Tony had fake ID?"

McGee nodded, not that Gibbs was looking at him to see it. "In the name of a man who had already been dead for more than two days."

"But if we're right then Tony didn't get involved in any of this until Friday evening when Julie came to see him." Kate stated.

Abby moved forward. "That's right, which means Tony obtained the fake ID's, or should I say made them sometime on Saturday."

Gibbs turned to her. "Made them?" he asked.

Abby went over to her desk and pulled open a drawer. "With everything that's been happening, I hadn't really noticed, but even a trained investigator like Tony leaves clues behind even when he's trying not to. The stuff I use for creating new identities for you guys has definitely been used, and when I checked my computer logs this is what I found."

The plasma screen went blank for a moment, before pulling up a picture of Tony on a driving license that was made out in the name of Mike Simpson. "This is a mock up that he made on my computer," Abby continued. "Tony would have no trouble getting into the DMV computers from here. When I found this I checked the CCTV from the lab. Guess who spent Saturday afternoon in here from about 3.30 on."

This time Gibbs did not have to protest about guessing, the answer was too obvious. "Tony," he muttered quietly, staring up at the screen for a moment as he added the new facts to the growing history of events. "Anything else?"

Abby shook her head. "I haven't had chance to study the footage properly yet, but my guess would be that he didn't just fake a driving licence."

"Passport?" Kate asked

Abby nodded, "That's much harder to do unless you have the original to work from, but not impossible. Depends on whose going to be looking at it. I mean if you're showing it to immigration it has to be good, but if you just want to get a marriage license or join a library. . ."

"Which begs the question, Kate interrupted. "'Why would Tony need fake ID in Mike Simpson's name?'"

Gibbs shrugged. "I don't know but it would explain why Julie Simpson came to Tony. If she knew what his profession was, then maybe she hedged on him being able to pretend he was her husband." He looked away from the screen, first to McGee then back to Abby as he spoke. "OK you two keep working on this and I'll. . ."

"But we," McGee began ". . .er" the hesitation came when Gibbs turned back to look at him, as though meeting his bosses' gaze somehow threw his mind off track. "We haven't finished yet." McGee clicked the remote in his hand once more. "This is Tony returning to the building at 4.30 am Monday morning."

Again the camera had switched to a different area of the parking garage. The car pulled to a somewhat jerky stop at a slight angle across two of the bays. This time there was a long pause before there was any movement. It was just possible to see Tony's head resting forward against the steering wheel in the dim lighting.

"Shit," The exclamation fell from Gibbs lips as Tony climbed from the car.

Kate let out an audible breath, and forcibly held back the tears that suddenly appeared in her eyes as she watched the battered form on the screen. He could barely stand, having to use the door and the body of the car to push himself upright. His shirt, the one that Gibbs had found in the trash, looked somehow more tattered as it hung limply over his shoulders. He shivered against the cool of the night and attempted to draw the remains together at the front where the buttons had been ripped off. It was a futile and, in a literal sense, strangely pathetic gesture as the two sides fell apart when he moved his hand away. He stood for a few moments swaying slightly with his eyes closed, clearly concentrating on holding his balance as his hands supported him against the roof and the top of the door. Eventually he took a step back, closing the door first and then relinquishing his grip on the roof. He waited a moment swallowing hard as he turned, the streaks of blood that ran from his matted hair down one side of his face now clear to see. He took a tumbling step forward and began to move off, but it was closer to a series of controlled falls than it was to walking. With no audience that he knew of to hide it from, Tony allowed the agony of every step to show in his expression. The four people in the room became unwitting voyeurs to his pain until he was finally clear of the cameras. Kate bit her lip, keeping a tight lid on the emotions the silent footage had evoked.

The image on the screen could have been a still if it wasn't for the numbers on the automated timecode continuing to run in the bottom corner. All that was left was the view of the car, casting strange shadows from the angled lighting.

The experience of watching Tony's suffering as a group had a mesmerising effect on all four of them, even for McGee and Abby who had watched it before, moments before they had decided it was time to call Gibbs. Somehow as a communal experience it cut much deeper, the shared emotion feeding itself and forming in the air around them. It took them all a reflective moment to recover their senses.

Gibbs was not immune, no matter how much he pretended to be. The emotional spiral churned round again and this time he grasped the anger as it went by. Why was McGee showing them this? They had all known how badly Tony was hurt. The inability to remain conscious, the whole not breathing, heart stopping, CPR thing, the waiting for him to come out of surgery, all of that had been a big enough clue. There was no need to rub their faces in it. He didn't need to see this. "McGee," he stated, the tension clear in the set of his jaw. "I sincerely hope there's a point to us watching this, or do you think we're all sadists that we want to stand here and watch Tony suffer, because I can arrange another demonstration of an agent suffering if that's what you think."

McGee gave his usual response to Gibbs' threats and swallowed hard. "Er. . .no boss," he stated. "The reason we're watching it is still on the screen."

Gibbs turned his attention back to the plasma and uttered a soft curse. "The car," he stated, annoyed with himself for missing it, but then all of his attention had been on Tony.

Kate also turned her attention back to the screen. "It's a different car," she supplied, as her mind caught up rapidly with the implications.

McGee's head went up and back slightly as it always did when he knew that he'd done something right. "I've already got an APB out on the rental car and I've sent a team to Tony's apartment building to impound that one if it's still there."

Gibbs stared at the screen a moment longer. It wasn't much but it was a break that might provide them with some much needed answers. He turned to McGee and uttered some rare praise. "Good job." He said quietly


	18. The Enemy Within

**Chapter 18 The Enemy Within**

Gibbs entered the bull pen, coffee in hand and spoke as he moved over to his desk, both McGee and Kate stood, expecting to be asked to report, but Gibbs had other ideas. "Local P.D. just located the rental car on a lot off Wisconsin Avenue, they're holding it for us." He tossed the keys. "McGee you're driving."

Despite the speed McGee managed to catch the keys, hiding his relief that Gibbs hadn't decided to take the wheel himself; fortunately he didn't seem to like driving the truck.

Gibbs moved to his desk and pulled his gun from his drawer, checking it before he slipped it into his holster. Kate and McGee mirrored his actions so the stranger wasn't noticed until he was almost at Gibbs' desk.

"Are you Special Agent Gibbs?" The question was asked in a hostile tone.

Gibbs finished putting his gun away, not rushing the action. He looked up; his eyes narrowing as he finally met the man's gaze. Still he did not speak, the long pause designed to be disconcerting to the questioner. He waited until the man looked uncomfortable enough, disconcerted enough. "I am, and you are?" Not that he needed to ask he recognised Detective Sergeant Will Adams from the photograph in his file.

Adam's eyes also narrowed as he regarded Gibbs coldly. "Oh, I'm sure that you already know that Agent Gibbs, since you've been all over my files. What I'd like to know is why the hell NCIS is interested in a civilian homicide." He did nothing to hide his hostility, his anger. "Since when do you Navy cops get involved in a murder of one civilian by another civilian?"

"You're talking about the Mike Simpson case?" Gibbs asked calmly

"Damn straight I'm talking about the Mike Simpson case. You've had the autopsy report, the case file, dammit the crime lab's even had a request for you to examine the trace evidence."

Gibbs stared at him. "Yes, I see how that would make you curious." His voice was an icy calm.

Adams waited, clearly expecting Gibbs to add something else, but Gibbs just stared at him.

"So are you going to give me some answers?" Adams asked.

Gibbs looked at his watch. "You're late."

Adams frowned "late?"

Gibbs picked up his coffee and walked round his desk. He was almost past Adams before he stopped and took a sip. He turned to look at him leaning his head across slightly; his voice was low. "If it was my investigation I would have been here at eight o'clock." He looked forward again and began to walk away.

Kate and McGee had watched the entire exchange silently, waiting to see how Gibbs would play it. They too had recognised Adams instantly and they both knew that Gibbs would want to speak to the man, so they were slightly surprised as he began to move away. Their eyes met with the same question. 'What's he doing?' The answer met almost simultaneously. 'He's being Gibbs.' They each gave a slight shrug, shouldered their bags and followed.

Adams stared open mouthed for a moment, not quite able to believe that Gibbs was actually going to walk out on him, a deliberate snub. "Agent Gibbs," he shouted angrily.

Gibbs stopped and turned. "That's Special Agent Gibbs."

Adams ignored the correction. "You still haven't answered my questions."

Gibbs allowed another pause. "Well I'm currently on the way to a crime scene. If you want to talk to me you'll have to come back." Gibbs stated his tone still showing no expression.

Adams bristled and his face flushed a deeper shade of red. Kate was beside him when Gibbs had stopped and she too had held her position. She noted the vein on the side of his forehead that was standing out a little. Gibbs was certainly pushing the man's buttons.

Gibbs had started to turn again so Adams was forced to ask the question. "When?"

"When I'm here," Gibbs answered cryptically, then he turned and swept away. Kate moved as well not looking back and McGee hurried to catch up at the rear of the group.

Adams was left standing silently in the middle of the empty desks, his fists clenching and unclenching in anger. He had come here for answers, to find out how much NCIS knew. He cursed softly, Gibbs had him over a barrel and he knew it. If he wanted those answers he would have to come back. He looked around him, focusing for a moment, taking in the nameplates on each of the desks. Aside from Gibbs there were the two agents he had seen; Special Agent Caitlin Todd and Special Agent Timothy McGee, both of those names along with Gibbs had come up on file requests, but there was a fourth desk in the group, Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo. He made a note of it, that was something that would bear being checked out. He hadn't been able to find out much about Gibbs, without proper reason he didn't have the facilities to check on federal agencies in the same way that they could check on him, but having met Gibbs he was sure that he needed to know as much as he could about what he was up against. He clicked his notebook shut and stalked angrily from the room.

Kate waited until they were in the elevator before questioning Gibbs' tactics. "I don't get it, didn't we want to talk to Sergeant Adams?" she asked. It wasn't that she was questioning whether Gibbs had a reason for his actions. She just wanted to know what it was.

"Why?" Gibbs asked

"Why?" Kate repeated, knowing full well that Gibbs knew the answer.

Gibbs locked her gaze. "Yes, why do we want to speak to Sergeant Adams?"

Kate stared for a moment before replying. "Because Abby pulled two bullets from his gun from Tony's vest."

"Which means?" Gibbs asked, patiently leading her through his thought processes.

"That he shot Tony twice in the chest."

"And Tony had a shirt over the top so. . . ."

"He didn't know that he was wearing one, so he intended to kill him." Kate completed.

Gibbs nodded. "And when would a cop shoot someone like that?"

"When he thought his life or the life of a member of the public was in danger." McGee entered the conversation for the first time.

"Do either of you believe that whatever Tony is involved in he would do that?" He looked from Kate to McGee and back again. "That he would threaten the life of a cop if he knew he was a cop?"

Both Kate and McGee shook their heads emphatically.

"Neither do I," Gibbs looked between them again. There was logical reasoning behind his powerplay; his need to throw Adams off before he talked to him, but, even so, a large part of the reason for his next statement was because it was what his gut was telling him. "However Adams is involved, he's not clean." The elevator came to a stop and Gibbs moved to exit. "When I do talk to him it will be on my terms."

NCISNCIS

Tony took a deep breath and allowed a moment of doubt, not sure that he could actually do this. Just moving to a sitting position had sapped huge amounts of his energy, standing and walking seemed tasks that were way out of his reach, and then there was the pain. It was more than just the throbbing headache that sat behind his eyes, the stabbing white flashes that accompanied his every move. It was a feeling that couldn't quite be explained as nausea or dizzyness, in

fact his vocabulary didn't seem to have a word to describe it. He just didn't feel right. It manifested as an almost overwhelming desire to just lie down again, to sink into an oblivion where maybe it didn't hurt as much, where maybe he didn't feel so. . .strange? . . .off? . . .not right? It was a sensation he was getting used to fighting. He'd fought against it to clean himself up and get into work. He'd fought against it to get himself out of the hospital, but he wasn't sure that he was strong enough to fight it any more. It seemed to be increasing, strengthening its hold whilst his reserves were weakening. Giving in to it would be so much easier.

He looked up at Julie trying to read her expression, which now showed more frustration than concern. He knew that he was being stubborn, but he really couldn't leave her to try to finish this on her own. He had to help her, had to try to save Mike, and that meant getting his sorry behind off this bed. He took a deep swallow and moved himself towards the edge.

The pain that ripped up from his abused muscles was incredible. It took his breath, and he moved his arm protectively around his waist sucking in air as his feet planted on the floor, and he leaned forward slightly. He waited a moment for the spasm to pass.

"Tony?" the concerned voice only just registered.

He looked up, swallowing another couple of breaths. "I'll be all right when the muscles loosen up," he stated, forcing a tired smile.

Damn, but he was stubborn, more so than she remembered. Fine if he was going to insist on doing this she would have to help him. "Wait there," she said, disappearing into the adjoining room. When she returned she had two small bottles of pills with her. "Here," she said, shaking four tablets into his hand. "These should help with the pain and the inflammation."

Tony stared down at the small white pills, he recognised the Vicodin, but not the other tablets, still he was in no doubt that they were prescription only. "How. . ?" he began to ask.

"I threw out my shoulder a few months back," Julie explained. "The doctor gave me these. I only just remembered they were still in my pack." The lies fell so easily from her lips, she'd had the tablets in reserve from before she went to the hospital to pick Tony up. They were easy enough to get if you knew how.

"Thanks." Tony took the half glass of water that she gave him and swallowed the tablets down together.

Julie took her hand in his, dropping to one knee on the floor so that he had to look slightly down at her rather than up. "Give them a little while to take effect," she said encouragingly. "Then I'll help you to the car."

Tony moved his hand up to her face and gently brushed the hair from her forehead, ignoring the slight shake. "Don't worry," he said, "I'll help you get out of this mess."

She smiled back at him. "I know you will."

NCISNCIS

Gibbs took a sip of the fresh coffee as he stood and did a slow spin, taking in the area that surrounded the lot, trying to figure out what had brought Tony here on Sunday. Where had he been going?

Kate came to stand beside him. He stopped spinning but his eyes continued to study the surrounding buildings.

"There's nothing in the car to indicate why he was here," she said, "No signs of a struggle anywhere near the vehicle, of course it's been here nearly two days and this is a busy lot so if there was anything to find chances are its long gone."

Gibbs gave a small nod, as McGee finished up with his photographs and joined them. "Cars ready to be towed," he said, allowing the camera to drop onto his chest, supported by the neck strap.

Again Gibbs only acknowledgement was a slight nod. "Where was he going?" Gibbs asked.

Kate looked down at the notes she had taken. "Well the nearest things are the movie theatre." She nodded in its direction. "He could have been meeting someone there."

Gibbs eyes followed her gaze. "Possible," he acknowledged, taking another sip of his coffee before looking back at her.

Kate switched her gaze to a second building. "Or the Friendship Station Post office." Again there was a small nod in its direction.

"It was a Sunday Kate." Gibbs stated.

She was about to reply with 'good point' when McGee interrupted.

"Then the post office could have been where he was going."

Kate and Gibbs turned to stare at him. It was Gibbs who spoke. "On a Sunday, McGee?"

"Yes, Friendship Station, It's the only post office in the state that opens up on a Sunday," he replied with a 'doesn't everybody know that' tone, clearly from his colleagues' expressions they didn't.

Kate's mind was working rapidly as she processed this new piece of information. "And you'd need fake ID if you were picking up mail in someone else's name."

Gibbs stared at her for a moment. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked. "The two of you go check it out."

NCISNCIS

Detective Sergeant Will Adams wasn't aware that the coffee cup in his hand was tilting until the scalding liquid splashed down the front of his shirt. It was enough to pull him back to his senses, enough to get him to close his mouth, which had dropped, open in shock. He righted the cup, grabbing tissues to mop at the coffee as he leaned forward so that the wet shirt lost contact with his skin, but it was a half hearted effort his mind was too preoccupied as he looked back up at his screen and swore. Getting into NCIS files was difficult but pulling up files on former cops wasn't. He stared again at the face of Anthony Dinozzo, formerly of Baltimore P.D and now Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo, NCIS. The face that stared back at him was the face of a man he had shot.

He swore again and just for good measure repeated it a few times under his breath. He dropped the soggy tissues onto his desk and picked up his phone. He dialed without even looking at the numbers, his eyes still glued to his computer screen. The line rang three times before it was answered. "We have a problem," he stated, "a big problem."


	19. Delivery Address

**Chapter 19 Delivery address**

Julie pulled the ringing phone from her pocket and looked at the caller ID only briefly before answering. She listened for a moment. "I'm sorry you have a wrong number," she stated calmly before hanging up and returning her attention to Tony.

If he was distracted or curious about the call it was instantly forgotten as she pinned him with the intensity of her gaze. He stared into the deep brown eyes that had always captivated him, and, for a moment, the years fell away and he was 19 again looking into the eyes of the girl he loved. The intervening years of heartache and pain and lost hope disappeared, and he felt that connection that he'd felt then, the shared pain of neglected children who'd finally found someone to love them, someone to care for them, someone to need them. It was a link that Tony had always embraced with an openness and trust that was destined to bring great joy or great heartache, but it was the only way that the young Tony knew how to be. He'd opened up to her and offered her his soul, and he'd believed her when she'd told him it wasn't good enough. He'd believed her so completely that he hadn't had the courage to try again since. Tears formed as the emotions slid back in, the moment lost as he remembered that she'd rejected him.

"Shhh," she said softly, a slight look of confusion in her eyes as she wiped the tears away gently with her thumb. "Do you always cry when someone gets a wrong number?"

Tony couldn't help but smile, as the tension of the moment was broken. He studied her face, as she matched his smile with one of her own. "I'm sorry, I just. . ."he began but broke off, how could he explain the pain to her?

She watched as the smile dimmed a little. "Hey, it's OK, I'm sure they just dialled again."

His smile brightened a little, though it couldn't fully cover the sadness in his eyes.

"That's better," she said, relieved. For a moment she thought he'd caught what the voice at the other end of the line had actually said to her, but his reaction told her that he hadn't. It was a call she was going to have to deal with but not now. For now she had more important things to concentrate on. "You always did have a killer smile." She moved in a little closer, regaining the intimacy that the phone call had interrupted. An intimacy she was cultivating to get the information that she needed. "Now, why don't you tell me where we're headed?" she asked, innocently. "After all I'm the one who's going to have to drive."

Tony's grin broadened a little as he played up to the lighter tone. "Oh, really? What makes you think I'm not up to it?" he asked, the rarest hint of a mischief forming in his expression. Banter he could do, even when the whole world was crashing down around him; he had trained himself to plaster on the smile and drop the quick quip. It was what got him through the day, most days.

"Do you want the full list or the abridged version?"

"Abridged,"

"OK let's start with the fever, the inability to remain conscious for long, the. . ."

"Hey, this is supposed to be the short version," Tony protested.

"It is," Julie allowed the smile to fade a little, "Come on Tony, Where am I headed?" She knelt and leaned forward, pushing the hair off his forehead and running her thumb down his cheek with a casual intimacy.

He couldn't help but lean into it, relishing the contact, a real emotional contact that he wasn't running away from. "Brentwood," he all but whispered, "Head for Brentwood and I'll give you directions when we get close."

Julie tried hard to hide the satisfied smile as she processed the information. Was that enough of a clue for her to identify the mysterious friend without needing further help from Tony, it probably was.

Brentwood, who did Tony know who lived there? Who did he know that he would trust? She tried to mentally run through the list of names that she'd downloaded from his PDA whilst he slept, but it was no good, there had been too many for her to memorise them all. She needed to check the file, search the list. She was pretty sure she could eliminate all of the women; Tony wouldn't trust one of them with something this important.

"Julie?"

She turned at the questioning tone and looked back to Tony sitting on the bed, an air of confusion surrounding him. She stared for a moment. She'd been so absorbed in her analysis of the information, she wasn't even aware that she'd moved, left him sitting there. Did she need to cover her actions, to keep him playing along? She sighed, there was a chance that she would need more from him. She'd better keep playing until she was sure.

"I'm sorry Tony," She said forcing a smile, "Guess I was just keen to get moving and I forgot you need my help." She walked back towards him. "Come on, let me help you to the car."

NCISNCIS

Had it been a few years earlier McGee and Kate may have had a completely different response from the post office workers. A highhanded insistence that warrants be produced, signed in triplicate and checked for the minutiae of detail on what was and wasn't to be checked, before anything from the almost sacrosanct USPS could be handed over, that had been the norm. Thanks to a September morning, that had all changed, to be replaced by a new spirit of almost eager cooperation with any federal agency who had a suspicion. Especially at Post Offices like Friendship station, where a positive test for anthrax resulted in a hefty dose of antibiotics and several weeks of fear for all of the employees.

"We'd like to speak to anyone who was working the counter Sunday after about 11.30," Kate stated as she put her badge away.

"Well, that would be me and Carl," the young clerk spoke rapidly. "And Nancy too 'cept she's not in today but I can get you her address if you'd like." He drew in a rapid breath before continuing. "What's this about? Is there some sort of terrorist threat? I knew it, I said to Carl that. . ."

Kate held up her hand in an attempt to stem the verbal flow. "No, no terrorist threat," she stared at his name badge, "Barney." She knew that she needed to squash that sort of talk immediately, or it would start a panic. "We just need to ask you some questions, about somebody who might have been in here." She pulled out a photograph. Do you remember seeing this man in here at any time Sunday?"

She held up a picture of Tony; it seemed strange holding up his image as she would a suspect.

Barney took the picture from her and his eyes lit up with recognition. "I knew it, I knew it," He said excitedly, looking back up at Kate. "I knew there was something wrong; I said the guy was acting suspiciously I even reported him to my supervisor I knew. . ."

Kate was forced to interrupt again. "You're sure you saw this man?"

"Positive," Barney confirmed.

"Did you actually deal with him?" Kate asked, before the young man could start another commentary.

"Well no Carl served him, I just. . . well there's never a lot of people in that time on a Sunday. It's one of the lulls ya know? Which gives you time to watch what's going on. We were told to always be alert."

"So what makes you think he was acting suspiciously?"

"Well it was mainly the other guys."

"Other guys?" Kate's heart rate quickened at the description of the danger.

"Yeah the ones who followed him in, they looked like. . .well like thugs, and he knew they were there too, 'cept he pretended not to notice them."

"Could you describe these 'other guys'?"

"I just did, I said they looked like thugs."

Kate resisted the temptation to sigh heavily at the answer. "I meant build, hair colour that sort of detail," she stated, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

Barney gave a nervous laugh, "Erm, yeah well, they were both real big, and they looked like they were used to fighting."

Kate bit her lip at the continued lack of anything helpful. "OK, do you think we could talk to Carl and your supervisor now?"

NCISNCIS

McGee followed Karen into the small security office, and he couldn't help but think he'd got the better part of the assignment; having left Kate with the double act that was Barney and Carl. For each one of Barney's youthful enthusiastic responses there was a slow sardonic answer from his middle-aged counterpart. He had left Kate struggling to get Barney to leave, or to at least stop interrupting whilst she attempted to find out from Carl just exactly what Tony was doing there.

They stepped into the room, one side of which had the feeds from security cameras at various points in the building displayed on a half dozen or so screens. More CCTV footage- great, just great! His heart sank a little and he considered that Kate might have the better part of the deal after all.

"I understand Barney reported someone who looked suspicious to you on Sunday. Did you follow it up at all?" McGee asked as Karen turned to face him.

"You have to understand that Mr Stone. . . Barney is a little, how shall we say, over- zealous." She gave a nervous smile as though looking for approval for her choice of words. "He reports between two and three 'suspicious' customers a week. If we passed them all on then . . .well suffice to say we wouldn't be believed if there was ever a real threat."

McGee let his shoulders drop slightly "So you didn't take any action?"

"Oh no, we made a log of the event, noted the time code on the cameras and someone from security would have taken a second look, but," she swallowed nervously. "We usually don't take any further action."

McGee made a mental note to say thank you for paranoid young postal workers the next time he prayed. "Do you think I could have a copy of that footage?"

NCISNCIS

"And you can't remember where Tony," she caught herself and corrected it to the name Tony had given, "Where Mr. Simpson, forwarded the package to?"

"Lady, do you have any idea how many pieces of mail come through here, how much we handle in a. . ."

"Brentwood," Barney interrupted, "He had it delivered to a place in Brentwood."

Kate had turned to lock her gaze on him and he shifted a little nervously.

"You're sure?"

"I got a cousin lives there," the young man answered. "That's how come I remember."

"Can you remember anything else about the address?"

Barney's brow furrowed in concentration. "No, sorry, nothing else."

Kate smiled at him, "Well thank you, you've been most helpful." The beam she got back wasn't really justified by the faint praise.

"Anytime," Barney stated, "Any time I can help."

NCISNCIS

They'd made it about halfway across the room when the thoughts connected in Julie's mind. She knew who lived in Brentwood, who Tony would trust with something important. She knew who Tony had sent her package to. She didn't need him anymore.

Tony was shuffling forward, oblivious to anything other than the action of walking, as he tried not to lean too much of his weight on Julie. The tablets had certainly taken the edge off the pain, but they had also left him feeling weaker, less coordinated, if that were possible. He had to focus hard just to get his legs to cooperate, to shift one foot in front of the other.

It didn't take much, a shift in weight, a slight twist and he was completely off balance. His arm slipped off her shoulder and he dropped to the side like a stone. His reflexes too slow, dulled by the medication, so he could not get his arm out in time to ease the impact; cracked and broken ribs took the full force of his weight as his side hit the floor. He vaguely heard the seemingly panicked apology as he fell.

"Oh God! I'm sorry Tony, I'm so sorry I'm. . ."

Then his world exploded into pain, white light stealing his vision as it shattered into a million stars. He rolled over, the entire side of his body a seething mass of angry snake like nerve endings, hissing and biting their response. He rolled again, unable to see, unable to hear, unable to scream, unable to breath. There was nothing but pain, tearing, blinding pain.

"I'm so sorry. . ." Julie continued to mutter, even as her foot impacted with the side of his head, finally ending his agony as he drifted into oblivion. She stepped back watching, waiting, making sure that he really was unconscious. Her voice trailed to a whisper. "I'm sorry but I don't think I need you anymore."


	20. Bodies

**Chapter 20: Bodies**.

"Abby" Gibbs stated into his cell. "What have you got for me?"

But Abby wasn't going to answer until she had made her point. "Is it true you're sending me another car?"

"Yes."

"That's the third one Gibbs," her tone took on an edge of whining. " I mean I know you think I'm superhuman, kinda like Captain Kirk always thought with Scotty, when Scotty told him it couldn't be done and Kirk ordered him to do it anyway, but even I have my limits, I mean I'm good but. . ."

Gibbs allowed a half smile at the reference. It was true, he was always setting her impossible tasks, but she was so damn good at accomplishing them. Even so he didn't have time for this, he let out a half sigh. "It's for Tony Abs," he interrupted. It stopped the moan dead in its tracks.

As if she could forget.

"Now I know you didn't call me just to complain about being overworked. " Gibbs stated. "So what have you got?"

"OK, the clothes Tony was wearing when he was beaten, and the wheels of the car we pulled from the garage, both showed signs of three chemical compounds, Diesel oil, fish oil and sea salt."

"Some sort of fishery?" Gibbs provided the conclusion that he knew Abby had already drawn.

"Yeah, so I ran a search of the local area, since Tony didn't look like he was in any condition to have driven far, I came up with two possibles, which weren't too far out. I then cross referenced for any unusual or criminal activity."

"And.. .? Gibbs asked impatiently, hearing the hitch of excitement in Abby's voice; she clearly had something good.

"Nothing," Abby stated. "The search came up clean."

Gibbs ground his teeth; he knew she had something. "Abby?"

"But my search did pull up a dead body found at a cold storage site for Wharf Fish Markets, they distribute to local restaurants. At the moment he's a John Doe, no ID but he did have some interesting bruising to his hands, the sort you'd get if you'd been hitting someone repeatedly, and he had blood on his shirt the same type as Tony's."

"What did he die of?"

"Single gunshot wound to the head, execution style." Abby paused, "I'm having samples of the blood and trace evidence found on the clothing sent over so I can compare it."

Gibbs thought for a moment. It could be just a coincidence, not related at all to Tony's abduction and subsequent beating, but his gut was telling him otherwise. "OK, give me an address I'll check it out."

Abby was slightly surprised that he didn't want to wait until she'd confirmed her suspicions before visiting the crime scene, but there was an urgency about this case that was stronger than normal, and Gibbs always behaved as though there was a fire burning under him. She gave him the address.

NCISNCIS

Kate drove quickly through the quiet suburban streets of Brentwood, her own sense of urgency pushing her, but her innate caution preventing speeds that were reckless. They had dropped the truck off and picked up one of the dark sedans that the team used, having contacted Gibbs to let him know they had a lead. Kate had a good idea who Tony had sent the package to; Jason Black lived in Brentwood.

McGee had been given the task of trying to contact Black by phone whilst Kate drove but repeated attempts had been unsuccessful. "Signal's still busy," he stated after the latest failed attempt, "and I thought only women could talk on the phone for that long."

Kate turned to give him a brief glare before concentrating her sight back on the road. "McGee!"

McGee hadn't considered the flippant comment before verbalising it. He replayed it in his head and inwardly groaned that he'd said it to Kate. He really needed to start thinking before he spoke. "I. . . that is I didn't mean. . ."

"Oh don't try and tell me you didn't mean to be sexist." Kate stated. "That would be worse than Tony, at least he admits that he's a sexist Pig. . ."

"Well no I. . .Actually according to research done in the early '90s women of all cultures tend to talk on the phone at least twice as much as their male counterparts both in terms of the number of calls and the total time spent on. . ."

"McGee!"

"I should shut up now shouldn't I?"

"That would be a good idea," Kate agreed. "Try Black again," she suggested.

He dialled, sighing in frustration as he got the busy signal once more.

NCISNCIS

Kate pulled the car to a stop in front of Jason Black's house and climbed out, her eyes automatically scanning the street. She stepped forward, her foot barely hitting the driveway before she sensed that something was wrong. By the time she reached the door and realised that it was slightly open her entire skin was tingling. McGee had been a step behind her all the way, but she knew that he sensed it too. He now moved up and across to the other side of the door. There was a brief eye contact and a nod as Kate drew her weapon. McGee copied her action, turning so that his back was to the wall by the door, quickly scanning behind them for danger as Kate kept watch on the doorway. Seeing nothing he turned his attention back to her. Still there were no words as Kate indicated that she was going in. She held up three fingers and slowly counted down with them, placing her hand back on her weapon as she hit zero and pushed the door open.

They moved in quickly and quietly, not knowing what to expect but knowing that something was wrong. Each swept one side in an arc with their guns, stopping and listening for a moment, looking for any signs of movement. Only when they were satisfied that there were none did they step into the hallway.

In a series of moves that looked like it had been coordinated and rehearsed in advance they moved forwards, Kate checking out the rooms on the left as McGee covered the stairs and the entrance to the kitchen. Having found two empty but trashed rooms they reached the kitchen at the back of the house, by now the smell of blood was unmistakeable, it's coppery tang hanging heavily in the air.

Kate was first to the doorway, McGee still covering her back since they hadn't been upstairs. Her heart was pounding now; beads of sweat covered her forehead as the adrenaline kicked up her metabolism. She swept her gun around the inside of the room. There was no one there. She took a cautious step forward and that was when she noticed the first of the blood. It was smeared across the doors of the cupboards. She forced her feet to take another step forward, gun still raised. Her eyes now drawn to the floor as she rounded the breakfast bar where she had drunk coffee with Gibbs only the day before. The blood was a pool now, spreading with rough edges like the outline of a natural lake. Following the contours in the flooring, taking advantage of any slight indentations to find it's own level, but it was rounded at the edges in ways that water, with its thinner consistency, could never be. Perfect rounded edges, except where it had been smeared. She found herself concentrating on it, fascinated by it, because she did not really want to move on and locate its source. She swallowed, forcing her legs to take another reluctant step forward and then another, the body coming into view.

She swallowed back the bile that rose and turned away. "Oh God!" She said, it was more of a prayer than a blaspheme, an appeal for help. Help to deal with the image that burned onto her retina even as she turned away from it. Jason Black lay on his back his face contorted in a horrible mask of agony and fear. The whole of his torso was covered in deep slashing cuts and blood, so much blood. Sticking out of his chest in exactly the same position as the crime scene photograph of Mike Simpson was a large kitchen knife.


	21. Motivations

**Chapter 21: Motivations**

Gibbs climbed from the car and pulled off his sunglasses. Blinking he took in the building in front of him. It had seen better days; the sign on the wall had paint that was just beginning to peel. The fire escape that was at the opposite end to the door was showing similar signs, the rust peeking out from underneath. There were no windows, just the aluminium slats on the delivery bay and the small wooden doorway painted black. He did a slow scan, there were no other cars around. The building had been closed since the body had been found, and nobody seemed in any hurry to start up operations again. The only other buildings in the area, what looked like warehousing of some sort, seemed equally deserted. It gave the whole place a strangely depressing feel, despite the presence of the early afternoon sun.

He took one last scan around before heading for the door, opening it to duck under the crime scene tape. It was the smell that hit him first, sea breeze mixed with rotting fish. He wrinkled his nose slightly, taking a deep breath through his mouth as he tried to block the sensation, concentrating instead on his first view of the inside of the building.

The paint in here was in no better state than the outside, if anything it was peeling more. Ragged pieces of white paint, some as big as dinner plates, hung slightly away from the surface, forming odd patterns of white and gray relief. He moved cautiously down the narrow corridor, not sure what he was guarding against in the empty building, his instincts keeping him alert. Ignoring the door that led to the delivery bay he made his way up the narrow stairs to the floor above, traversing two more, equally narrow, corridors before the sides opened up into a maze of rooms. He walked through silently until he found the one he wanted, the pool of blood still staining the floor.

He took a step forward and then another, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He closed his eyes. He could almost smell the sweat, the fear. It soaked in through every pore of his skin as he allowed the room to speak to him. This was a room of violence, of terror. He could hear the thud of flesh against flesh, the grunts of pain, the involuntary squeals of a man being beaten, trying not to show how much it hurt. Beads of sweat ran down from his forehead, trickled down his neck. It didn't require much imagination. He had been in rooms like these, too many times.

It wasn't as hard when it was the enemy, when it was some nameless faceless man who had information that you needed, information that would save lives. It wasn't as hard, but it was still impossible, unless you cut off all emotion. If you knew the man that was being tortured, that was screaming, well then it was just impossible.

In this room it had been Tony. He didn't need Abby to confirm it. He knew.

Dammit! He opened his eyes, tried to block the images, the smells, the sensations, the strangled screams, from his mind. He studied the room again, his eyes narrowing. He took a step forwards.

"It's dangerous to enter a crime scene without watching your back Agent Gibbs." Agent Fornell said as he stepped through the door into the room. He had followed Gibbs in, hung back; waited for the perfect moment to surprise him. He blinked twice as he stared round the empty room. He heard the click of the gun being cocked next to his ear.

"Even more dangerous to try to sneak up on someone Fornell," Gibbs said dangerously.

Fornell swallowed once, and then gave a slight nod. "Conceded," he swallowed again, "Is that a hair trigger?"

"Don't worry," Gibbs stated, "It won't go off unless I want it to. Now, would you care to tell me why you're following me?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not sure that you won't want that gun to go off. . ." Fornell finally turned, backing slightly away from the gun that was now pointed squarely between his eyes. "When I do tell you."

Gibbs lowered his weapon slowly, releasing the trigger and clicking the safety back on without looking at it. He studied Fornell but said nothing.

"And technically I didn't follow you here. I just had a hunch when Miss Sciuto started requesting the forensics that you'd want to check the place for yourself."

"And what made you think that I'd want to come here?"

"Because this is where Agent Dinozzo," Fornell deliberately pronounced Tony's surname differently changing the emphasis, softening the z's to a ts sound, it was an unexplained affectation, "was beaten."

Gibbs back straightened slightly as anger rippled down his spine. "You knew about that?"

Fornell nodded.

"Before? During? After?" Gibbs struggled to ask the question with any semblance of calm.

"Technically during and after," Fornell admitted. "Now you know why I wanted you to lower the gun."

Gibbs bristled. "You knew that someone was beating the crap out of one of my people and you did nothing to stop it?" His eyes narrowed. "Give me one good reason why I don't shoot you anyway?"

"Again technically. . ."

"Cut it with the technical crap Fornell."

Fornell held up a hand in a placating gesture. "OK, but we only knew about it because we had an agent on the inside, and he risked his own life to get the beating to stop." Fornell let out a sigh. "He wasn't happy about it when Dinozzo was picked up but he figured that he could handle it, until they started on him with the iron bar."

The air around Gibbs crackled, the image of swollen black stripes across Tony's back flashed across his mind, causing a sharp intake of breath.

Fornell didn't quite understand the reaction but he could guess. He held his hand up again in the same placating gesture. "Our guy talked them into taking a break when Dinozzo passed out. It was the best that he could do without getting himself killed, but he was prepared to blow the whole operation to get him out before they started in on him again."

"Considerate of him," Gibbs tone dripped sarcasm.

"Hey, he was gonna blow months of hard work and risk his own life further to get your guy out."

"Was?"

"Turned out he didn't have to, Dinozzo managed to escape, before they got back." Fornell looked across at the dried blood that still coated the floor. "They shot the guard who let him escape through the head." His eyes turned back to Gibbs, clearly challenging now, the statement emphasizing the danger his own agent had been in.

Gibbs drew in a deep breath, lowering the hostility level a little. The explanation certainly fitted with what they knew but it was still too damn little. He stared at Fornell. "Don't suppose it occurred to you, at any point to let NCIS know what was going on. You know in the spirit of inter-departmental cooperation." He gave a wolfish smile that held no humour. They both knew that such cooperation only existed when it was forced.

"At the time we didn't know how Agent Dinozzo was involved, we still don't. Nothing in this investigation has a naval link, but part of it was focused on someone from law enforcement being corrupt, for all we knew that could be Dinozzo."

Gibbs shook his head. "Not Tony," he stated.

"You don't know what's at stake?"

Gibbs met his gaze. "No, and I don't care, and nor would Dinozzo. Corruption is not in him"

Fornell studied Gibbs expression. "I wish I had your faith."

"Don't need faith I know my people." Gibbs took a step forward, deliberately moving into Fornell's personal space. "Now, since you obviously know a lot more about what's going on, why don't you share."

"I told you there's no naval connection. This is an FBI case there's no reason to. . ."

"Oh there is a reason, in fact there's more than one reason. I'd say any case where one of my people is beaten half to death falls under my jurisdiction, and, even if that weren't the case." He moved in a little closer. "You owe me."

The two men stood nose to nose, the air between them thick with barely contained emotion. Gibbs had saved Fornell's career, possibly his life, and he was calling in at least part of that marker. Breaking down the tense inter agency rivalry was never easy and he was asking for full access on a case that he didn't really belong on.

Fornell didn't give in straight away, even though he knew that he would. That wouldn't fit with the complexities of the game. It wasn't how you played. In a world where your opponents were often on the same side as you, and you frequently ended up doing deals with your enemy. It was important to appear strong even when you were about to give everything up. Finally he gave a slight nod of agreement. "There's a coffee shop about two blocks from here," he stated. "I'll fill you in on the way."

NCISNCIS

Tony moved his arm lazily, fumbling for the alarm. The insistent ringing was annoying, but he could find no means to stop it, as his hand met empty air. He moved it, experimentally probing the surface, only hard wood met his fingertips, curiosity forcing his brain into ever higher states of awareness. Sensations registering slowly at first, then in an exponentially increasing rush as disorientation took over. It wasn't his alarm clock it was a cell phone, blurry eyes opened and attempted to focus on it across the floor. He was lying on the floor. The surface cold and hard, and he was shivering, and, God, every single part of him hurt, from his fingertips to the roots of his hair. His head was pounding. His eyes refused to focus properly, and the damn phone was still ringing.

He forced himself to move, drawing in a sharp breath as he rolled onto his knees. He pulled one hand across his chest as he tried to force an awkward crawl across to the phone. Maybe the person at the other end would have some answers. Could explain why he was here, why everything hurt. Why. . .?

The phone stopped ringing.

He stopped with it, blinking as it finally swam into focus, only a couple of feet away now, not that it had been much more before. He continued his awkward three-limbed movement but the urgency had gone now. He moved even more slowly, quite a feat since he had barely been moving before. His entire focus was still on the cell phone, on controlling the pain and the shivers enough to move towards it. He gave a sigh of relief as he reached it, but instead of grabbing for it he maneuvered carefully to a seated position by it. Leaning his back gingerly against the bed, he blinked his eyes once more as he looked down at it. It was in the position Julie had left it. After she'd answered the wrong number. She had placed it on the floor before talking to him, before asking for the location they were going to. He drew in a deep breath as he realized that she had left without him, but he did not have time to consider it further as broken ribs protested the violent movement of the ribcage. Tendrils of fire shooting out across his side and he could do nothing but ride out the waves, swallow back the accompanying nausea and try to force his breathing to slow from the rapid panting gasps that threatened to take over.

When he could think clearly again, when the pain wasn't wiping all thoughts, he gently probed the region where his ribs had been cracked. Somehow he'd done more damage, they were broken now, he was sure of it. It must have been when he'd fallen. Julie was helping him to the car and he'd fallen.

She tripped you.

The stray thought barely registered. He dismissed it. He'd fallen, she'd decided to go without him, or she'd gone for help.

She didn't want you with her. She tripped you.

He dismissed it again. There was no way that she could know where he'd sent the package. She needed him to find where it was. It didn't make any sense that he had done anything other than fallen, besides she'd asked for his help. It just didn't make sense that she would hurt him.

He turned his attention back to the cell phone, picking it up he checked the missed call number. It wasn't one he recognized. Curious since this was the phone he had supplied her with, an old one with no GPS chip so that it couldn't be traced so easily. He checked back through the phone's memory. The number had called this phone five times in the last few days. He stared for a moment more. It was the only number that had called this phone today. So it couldn't have been a wrong number. She'd known who'd called. He checked again, whoever it was had left a voicemail message. He hit the button that would take him there.

NCISNCIS

Julie tried to control her speed as she headed out of the city. The last thing she needed was to be pulled over. She'd cleaned off most of the blood but she'd only managed to find a loose sweater to fit her, nothing to replace her skirt, which was still splattered in patterns of an unmistakable coppery red. As were her shoes, damn, she was annoyed about that. She really liked those shoes and they were ruined now. Why hadn't she remembered to take them off? She hit the steering wheel in frustration.

She couldn't believe that she still didn't have the package, her package; it was like the whole world was conspiring against her. She hadn't believed that she was wrong about Jason Black. Not until that last moment, as he drew in those last gurgling breaths. She'd looked into his eyes and realized that he didn't have it. Tony hadn't sent it to him. Damn Tony, she hit the steering wheel again. Why hadn't she brought him with her? She had just left him on the floor. In her eagerness to get to her package, she had just left him there. Damn him, if she'd brought him he could have told her where it was. Now she had to go all the back to that godforsaken cabin, but this time he would tell her. No more tricks, no more asking for help. This time he would tell her.

NCISNCIS

"So, bottom line," Gibbs asked, as they emerged into the sunshine. "What is this all about?"

"You're so sure your Dinozzo's incorruptible."

"Yes."

"Then why is he involved?"

Gibbs swallowed, a little uncomfortable with his answer. "For love."

Fornell stopped and looked at him for a moment. "Love?"

Gibbs nodded.

"I suppose it does fit his character a little better than money." Fornell conceded

"How much money?"

"100 million in uncut diamonds."


	22. Revelations

**Chapter 22:- Revelations**

Gibbs stopped, turning to look at the slightly shorter man, letting out a low whistle. "Lot of money," he stated, "enough to buy off a lot of people."

Fornell nodded, studying Gibbs' expression. "But you still don't believe that's Dinozzo's motivation?"

Gibbs didn't answer straight away, he started walking again, striding forward purposefully. "Money doesn't do it for him."

"You could have fooled me- designer suits, expensive Italian shoes, an up market apartment. . ."

"Oh, I didn't say he doesn't like it, but it isn't what gets him out of bed in the morning, and he certainly wouldn't risk his career for it- he likes the job too much." He paused, slowing slightly to allow Fornell to keep up, he could sense the other man straining to match his stride.

"So what does?" Fornell asked "What gets him out of bed in the morning?"

"Pretty face, nice pair of legs. . ." Gibbs began because it was so easy to think of Tony in that light. It was the image he deliberately projected, the one that hid the pain, and nicely sidestepped the emotion. He became more thoughtful more serious. "Injustice in the world, maiden in distress? The thrill of the chase? Hard to say. What motivates any of us?" He looked across at Fornell once more. "But it's not money."

"So what, or, more accurately, who is it that he's risking his career, not to mention his life for?" Fornell asked

"Julie Simpson," Gibbs answered, trying hard to keep the venom out of his tone. She had almost destroyed Tony once and she was doing it again, and even though he had never met her, his hate for her was building exponentially.

Fornell drew in a deep breath, but did not speak

"You know her?" Gibbs was forced to ask even though Fornell's reaction made it obvious that he did. Sometimes he wished that they could just give each other straight answers without all of the dancing around, but both of them had been doing this for so long that he doubted that they knew how.

"She's the wild card in all of this. The reason why we haven't got a nice string of arrests and a package of diamonds sitting in the FBI evidence lock up." He paused, not willing to give up more information without getting something back. "So, how's she connected to Dinozzo?"

Gibbs almost gave a small smile- you get something you give something, and so the dance continues. "He was engaged to her in college until she ran off with his best friend." It was Gibbs turn to pause, not because he was unwilling to share the information, but because it took a moment to tamp down the anger that he felt when he spoke of her betrayal and it's effect on Tony. His concern was bordering on the paternal and he knew it, but he couldn't help the emotion, any more than he could explain why Tony, more than any other person he'd had in his command, instilled this instinct in him, but he did; the bond was strong, the reaction instinctive. He drew in a breath. "It seems that Tony, despite appearances to the contrary, never really got over her. So when she came and asked him for help. . ."

". . .she seemed like that fair maiden in distress." Fornell completed the sentence with a slight nod. He looked across at Gibbs "She's anything but- she's dangerous, very dangerous."

Gibbs nodded; Tony had already almost died because of his involvement with her. The fact that she was dangerous was something he knew only too well, something he was trying hard not to think about. "I know," he stated quietly.

Fornell studied him again, noting the tense creases around his eyes, the slightly drawn in cheeks, the fists that clenched in barely restrained anger and frustration and concern. He made a decision. It was time to stop playing. Time to unload everything he had.

NCISNCIS

It had been a while since Kate had had to work so hard not to throw up at a crime scene. She had been in Ducky's autopsy room so many times now, seen so many gruesome sights that she thought herself immune at least to the physical reaction that accompanied the sight of a once vibrant human being in pieces in front of you. She was wrong; the nausea almost claimed her. It was only the arrival of the local p.d. that prevented her from giving in to it. The thought of losing her stomach contents in front of the two youthful male officers who arrived to seal off the crime scene was enough to steel her resolve. She still had to get out of the room though, out of the house, away from the stench of blood, if just for a few minutes.

She stood on the drive and drew some air into her lungs, trying to analyse her reaction. Why had it been so strong? She had certainly seen more gruesome scenes. Was it the fact that she had only spoken to him the day before? The fact that he flirted with her? The fact that she liked him? That he was Tony's friend? That it could have been. . .could still be Tony?

"Kate?"

She snapped back from her contemplation, slightly relieved, as her thoughts were doing nothing to quell the creeping nausea, and turned to see McGee moving quickly towards her.

"I can't get Gibbs, his cell's off but Ducky's on his way." He glanced around, checking that no one was close enough to overhear and lowered his tone slightly. "I've managed to convince the locals that this comes under our jurisdiction, since its linked to the disappearance of one of our agents but I don't know how long that will last, especially if one of them links it to Mike Simpson's murder."

Kate gave McGee a slight smile of approval. He had been doing the job that she should have been doing; at least one of them had kept their head. She was glad that Gibbs wasn't available. He would chew her out for letting her emotions get the better of her like this. "Then we'd better do our best to keep them out of there. I'll put them on patrol outside and we'll see if Abby can track down Gibbs." She began to move back towards the house. "You photograph I'll sketch," she stated as she drew in a breath, ready to go back inside and do her job.

NCISNCIS

Fornell took a sip of his coffee, settling it back down on the table in front of him. "Diamonds are an extremely effective currency for organized crime to deal in. They're small, they're portable and before they're cut they're almost impossible to trace. Not to mention the fact that they have an international value. They can be used to buy, drugs, weapons, finance terror organizations. The only problems you ever have is checking their authenticity and getting them into the country in the first place." He took another sip of coffee. "About six months ago we got wind of an operation that was smuggling them in in plain sight. They were making use of regular shipments of semi-precious stones and costume jewelry coming in from a company in Austria. The company ships thousands of small packages through the mail to different customers across the country, and, although customs does random sampling, the chances of the package carrying the genuine diamonds being picked up, and the chances of the diamonds being recognized for what they are, is very slim."

"They put a package worth 100 million dollars in the mail?"

"According to our sources they test shipped a thousand packages through the service before deciding that it was an acceptable risk, and at least as likely to succeed as using a mule to carry them through customs." Another sip. "The problem was we had no way of knowing where the package was going, we managed to get agents in at both ends but it took six months for them to get anywhere, by the time they did we believe at least two packages had made it through." He let out a sigh. "That was when we caught a break, or thought we had. Mike Simpson was one small link in a long blind chain. The security was that no one was supposed to know anyone else, or what they were handling. He was being paid five thousand dollars to collect the package and pass it on, no questions asked, but someone did know. They knew Mike Simpson's identity and they knew what he was about to pick up. They let him know the true worth of the package's contents, told him that he should keep it and split it with them, I got the impression that there was a veiled threat of an 'or else' that went along with that. Anyway, that was when he contacted us, he suddenly realized that what he was involved in was dangerous, and he didn't trust that the person who had given him the information, wouldn't just shoot him when he handed the package over. We set up a meet but Simpson didn't show. He was already dead, and we were no closer to the package or the person who betrayed the organization."

"But you think it was a Fed?"

"Or a cop. Simpson was scared, but he did refer to the person who wanted him to hand over the package as 'one of you, sworn to serve and protect,'"

Gibbs gave a frustrated nod; to a layman all of the law protection agencies were the same, all together on the same side, fighting a common cause. It was only the agencies themselves that seemed to make the distinction. Mike Simpson's comment certainly wasn't conducive to working out which particular agency the rogue had come from, but Gibbs had his suspicions. The fact that Detective Sergeant Will Adams was the first Detective on the scene when Mike Simpson's body was found was surely too much of a coincidence.

"That was when the lovely Mrs. Simpson first appeared on the radar. The speculation is that she found out what her husband was about to do and decided that the money was worth the risk. The only mistake she made was not waiting for her husband to pick up the package first."

"So, she needed someone who could impersonate her husband and pick it up for her, and that's where Dinozzo came in."

Fornell nodded. "At this stage the organization still didn't know that Simpson was dead, but they did know that they had a leak, so they staked out the Friendship Station Post Office, waiting for Simpson to come pick up the package."

"But that doesn't explain why they picked up Tony instead of Mike Simpson, didn't they know what Simpson looked like?"

"Sure they did," Fornell stated calmly, "They knew what he looked like, because they had Simpson's apartment staked out Saturday afternoon when Dinozzo visited it."

"So, why not pick him up then?"

"Oh they probably would have, but on his way out Dinozzo got involved in a shoot out with a mystery assailant. Dinozzo, or Simpson as they thought, took two in the chest and they ducked for cover. When they came up for air Dinozzo had made his escape, as had the mystery gunman. They had no choice but to switch to the Post Office. They figured there was no way Simpson was coming back to his apartment."

Gibbs let out a sigh; only Dinozzo could get himself involved in something so complicated.

"When he turned up at the post office the next day they picked up on him straight away."

"But it was too late he'd already forwarded the package."

"And the 64 000 dollar question is to whom?"

Gibbs pulled out his cell and turned it back on. "With any luck Kate's already got it in her hands."

NCISNCIS

Tony listened as the electronic voicemail menu started up, impatiently pressing the button that would play the most recent message.

"This is beyond a joke," the impatient male voice sounded at the other end of the line and then there was some muttered cursing, followed by a deep breath as the speaker clearly brought himself under a little more control. "You'd better get back to me as soon as you get this message." The anger was clearly rising again. "You didn't tell me that the guy you were getting to play hubby was a Fed. He works for NCIS for Chrissake! And I shot him! His buddies are all over this. Do you have any idea how much trouble we're in? How much this raises the stakes? Of course you don't because you're crazy. I should have known that from the way you carved your husband up, killing him before he could collect the . ."

But Tony didn't hear any more of the message as the cell dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. His mind seemed to accelerate and slow down all at the same time, as links formed seamlessly in his head. The shooting at the apartment building had been a set up. He'd been ready to call Gibbs in, to ask for help from the people he trusted. She had had to convince him that the police were in on the conspiracy, that she would be killed if taken in to custody, but the cop had been in on it all along. She'd had him shot; she'd set him up from the beginning. She'd killed Mike. Oh God! She'd killed Mike. .

The force of the betrayal hit him like an express train, just as it had done the last time she'd destroyed him, only this time it was worse. This time he'd had his doubts all along. Those little niggling voices in the back of his mind that he'd suppressed, ignored. On some level he'd known all along, and still he'd allowed her to use him. He'd wanted to believe her so badly, needed to believe her. He'd needed her to need him because his psyche still believed that he wasn't good enough for her.

Somewhere buried deep under all the years of experience and layers of bravado was a lost and lonely child seeking to recapture that first moment of love and connection with another human being. A connection he'd found with another lost soul, his first, his only real. . . . Only he'd never realized that she was too far-gone to bring back, that unlike him, she had no love to give- only destruction.

Breathe. . . .breathe! His mind desperately screamed the command, but against the weight on his chest, the force of impact from her abuse, he didn't think he could. Everything was frozen, paralysed, his vision began to swim and he closed his eyes tightly, but it didn't stop the swirling motion, until finally automatic responses kicked in, drowning out his consciousness that could not move against the pressure, and he drew in a great hacking swirling breath, and it must have caused pain. At some level the grating of broken ribs must have been agonizing, but he honestly couldn't feel it through the onslaught of emotion.

Gradually he became aware that he was taking in panting gasps, and he was on his feet and he was moving, and he had the cell phone firmly gripped once more in his hand, and he knew that he had to call Gibbs. He had to tell him about Julie, to warn him. He had to apologise for his own stupidity. He had to. . . His hand was pressing the buttons. He was outside now. He could see trees, sky. . He was outside and the cell was ringing and. . . "

"Gibbs?" The gruff voice answered from the other end of the line.

Tony opened his mouth, his lips moved, no sound came out.

"Who is this?" the tone was impatient.

Tony tried again, he knew his lips were moving, but still there was no sound.

"Look I don't have time for games I'm hanging up"

Tony expected to hear the click expected the line to go dead, but for some reason it didn't. There was a long pause. "Tony?"

Tony knew that he still hadn't made a sound. How did Gibbs know? The tone was no longer gruff, it was hesitant, hopeful, it gave Tony a surge of confidence and suddenly he could speak, he could apologise for what he had done. He could warn Gibbs. .

"Boss," this time the word came out, shaky and weak but it was there. "Look I'm sorry boss, I know I really screwed up this time, but I thought she was. . . I was trying to help and there were too many unknowns and I didn't want to. ." his voice was fading, his breathing too rapid and shallow in the face of the trauma his body had suffered, but he pressed on, moving deeper into the treeline as he spoke. "I mean, I didn't. . .Look the important thing is. . ."

"Dinozzo," Gibbs tried to interrupt, tried to get Tony to pause to listen to him. "Dinozzo," his tone was sharp but it was having no effect. "Tony," he tried, "Listen to me!" That got a pause. "I just need you to tell me where you are. Where are you?"

Tony listened to the question, but the answer was unimportant. "Julie Simpson, boss. Mrs. Julie Simpson. I think she might be dangerous and she's going to. . ."

The line went dead. "Dinozzo, are you still there, Dinozzo!" Gibbs yelled, in a fruitless gesture, Tony had been cut off mid-sentence. He pulled his cell from his ear and stared at it. The call had been ended. It took every ounce of his self-restraint not to throw it down to the ground and smash it into pieces.


	23. You Always Believed

**Chapter 23: You always believed **

Kate stepped off the hospital elevator and scanned the reception area. It took her only a moment to spot the person she had returned here to meet. She was standing with her back to her next to the nurses' station, nervous energy vibrating off her into the room as she shifted from foot to foot. Kate made her way quickly across, speaking as she approached. "Nurse Pierce?"

The young woman gave a slight jump and turned sharply at the sound "Hello, yes I'm Marie, Marie Pierce," she answered quickly trying a small smile, but failing to make it convincing.

"Special Agent Kate Todd, we spoke on the phone. " Kate returned the smile, doing her best to put the young nurse at ease as she offered her hand in greeting, but there was more than just nervousness now. Kate could almost sense the air of guilt, could feel the slight tremors as Nurse Pierce returned her handshake. Whatever Marie Pierce had called to tell her, she was clearly under the impression that she had done something wrong, and that could make it tricky to get the information that she needed. "You said you might know something about Special Agent Dinozzo's disappearance?" Kate prompted, adding her best look of encouragement.

"Yes," Marie replied, shifting feet again, despite Kate's best efforts she looked even more uncomfortable, " I just came back on shift and the others told me about it." She drew in a deep breath, rushing the next words, as though there was no other way that she would get them out. " I'm afraid I may have helped. . ."

NCISNCIS

It took Gibbs several deep breaths to bring his frustration under control. Then he quickly punched in the sequence of keys that would put him through to Abby.

"Abs I need you to trace the last call through to my cell," he paused for a moment as he had a small internal debate about whether to tell her why. "I just spoke to Tony."

"Tony? Is he all right? What did he say? Where is he? What. . .?" Abby could barely contain the questions as the adrenaline shot through her system.

Gibbs closed his eyes briefly; he had clearly come out on the wrong side of his debate. "Abby," he interrupted sharply, "I wouldn't need you to trace the call if I knew where he was, now would I?"

Gibbs' cutting tones interrupted Abby's stream of consciousness as only he could. She took a breath mid- question. "No, I guess not," she allowed, as she tapped the relevant keys on her keyboard to pull up Gibbs' cell records.

Gibbs could hear the rapid keystrokes and knew that Abby would have the information for him shortly. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose against his building headache. "We were cut off," he stated, quietly, "before he could tell me anything."

Not that he tried to tell me anything, all he did was apologise, apologise for screwing up, as if any of that mattered more then finding him, more than his life. The thought went unspoken, Gibbs wasn't sure why.

Why couldn't he tell that part to Abby? Was it because he didn't want to share Tony's vulnerability? Or was it his own guilt? Tony was apologizing to_ him_, because he cared so much about what _he_ thought of him. He cared more about that than he did about his own survival. He cared more about that because Gibbs had somehow made him care more about that. Doesn't matter if you die Dinozzo, just don't screw up, don't make Gibbs angry, because somehow that's worse? Dammit, how could he think that was more important?

Gibbs dug his nails into his palm as he attempted to quell his frustration, his impotence, only the tapping of keys sounding clear through his cell kept him connected to reality, brought him back to the hope that this situation wasn't lost yet, that Tony wasn't lost yet.

Abby didn't push for more information. Gibbs knew that she was now focused entirely on the task he had given her, and that was a quality he admired in Abby. She never let emotion get in the way of her work, no matter what was happening, he knew that he could rely on her when it was important. That was part of the reason he sometimes allowed her indulgent distractions, because when he needed it, the job always came first.

He could have left it there, but he owed her more than that. He let out another soft sigh. "He didn't sound good Abs- we need to find him."

Abby didn't reply but he could detect an increase in the already speedy clatter of keys as she responded to the unspoken plea in his tone. "OK, bad news all round- the cell number is registered to Mike Simpson, and the phone doesn't have a GPS chip in it, which means the nearest fix I can get is by tracing the last cell tower that picked up the signal. That will only give us an idea of the location within a few blocks if he's in the city, and, I'm afraid a much wider area if he's outside."

"Any way of narrowing it down?" Gibbs asked, biting back renewed frustration.

"Only if he uses it again."

And whether that happened would largely depend on why he was cut off in the first place. Gibbs resisted the temptation to swear. "Well get me the best you can, and then get Kate and McGee to help you run down possible locations, they should be back by now."

"McGee is, Kate took another call, some nurse at the hospital had some information for her."

"OK, get McGee to help, I'm on my way in."

NCISNCIS

Tony froze at the touch, his mind snapping from one focus to another in an instant. He had been aware of nothing but Gibbs at the other end of the line, he could see, feel almost touch his presence, and he had been drawing strength from it, now that the link had been severed there was nothing to hold him together.

His mind scrambled for a lifeline and found it in the physical. He'd had no awareness of his skin, no awareness of his own harsh shallow breathing, no awareness of the fever or the exhaustion or the pain. Then a hand gripped his from behind, pressing the button that cut him off from Gibbs, and he was aware of everything, aware of the gun that pressed into his side, aware of the tingling shivers that rippled along his skin, of his raspy breaths, of the stabbing, grating pain that radiated around his chest, of the voice that softly whispered in his ear, the breath warm against his chilly skin.

"So, here you are my sweet Tony." The tone was soft and silky and nauseatingly incongruous in his current situation. It was the tone of a lover, not the tone of a murderer, a betrayer.

Tony felt every shift of fabric as she moved gently against him, her body wrapped around his from behind, warming, his back, his side, wherever they came into contact. From lack of sensitivity, his skin now seemed hypersensitised, the physical sensation giving him something to focus on, something to prevent his mind imploding under the emotional onslaught of the revelations of the last half hour.

"I've been looking for you." The lover's tone continued. "What are you doing all the way out here?" There was a pause as she leaned closer in, dropping her voice to even more of a whisper. "You wouldn't be trying to get away from me would you?" It didn't seem possible but the tone got even more sickly sweet. "No, you wouldn't try to do that, would you?"

Tony hadn't moved, wasn't sure that he could; nor could he respond. The processes necessary to get his voice to work seemed beyond him, as did any thought beyond the here and now. The only feelings were those of touch and pain, no emotion. He couldn't afford thought, couldn't afford emotion. It was as though he were under some sort of spell.

"Because that would upset me, you trying to get away. Now tell me, who were you calling, my sweet?"

Tony was still unable to reply, although his mind flashed an image of Gibbs, and a little sorrow, a little regret, almost managed to sneak out before his mind blanked it.

There was a pause, that was when the tone turned harsh, threatening, insidious. "Tell me who you were calling?" The gun stabbed sharply into his side, igniting a fire that exploded across his ribs. "I need to know."

The dam broke, the full impact of her betrayal slammed into him again as white hot, molten emotion flooded his brain. "No," the word was a quiet scream as he tried to deal with the emotional onslaught. He let go of the cell and stumbled forward, turning to face her as sweat beaded across his forehead. He stared at her as he tried to pull some semblance of coherent thought together. "No," this time his voice was little more than a whisper.

When he had looked at her in the past he had always seen beauty, now he saw an ugliness that had been hidden to him before. It was beneath the skin but still there, strong and visible in the afternoon sunlight that streamed between the leaves of the trees. An ugliness that came from the soul, bitter and twisted. How could he have missed it?

"You killed Mike," it was worded as a statement, not a question.

Still, she replied. "He deserved to die. He had the chance to help me fulfill my dreams. To give me the wealth I deserve, and he was going to throw it all away."

Tony stumbled back a little more. It was like another punch to the gut, re-igniting old pains. He had known the truth as soon as he had heard it, and yet hearing her admit it. . . Tears formed in his eyes. "You used me, everything you told me was a lie?" This time it was a question, now he somehow needed her to confirm it.

"Ah my poor sweet naïve Tony. You always did believe everything I told you," the sickly sweet tone had returned. "I only ever needed you for your money, for the help you could give me. Why do you think I ran off with Mike? He was only half the man that you ever were."

The statement, the revelation caught Tony off guard, his lips moved a couple of times before he managed to make any sound. "You. . you said he was better than me."

Julie laughed, a controlled mocking laugh. "You were better looking, smarter. How could you not see that? He was never anything more than my backup plan. Didn't you realize that I only turned to him when you came up with that stupid idea of renouncing most of your inheritance, so you could follow a career in law enforcement? Did you ever honestly think that I could be the wife of a cop? I was destined to have money, to live in luxury." Her tone suddenly betrayed anger. "Couldn't you see that I deserved that?"

It was all money? She had only ever wanted him because he was rich? How had he not seen that she was that shallow, that deluded? Was love really that blind? "That's what all this is about, money? You killed Mike for money?"

"Yes, money that's mine, that I deserve." the anger was still there, mixed with defiance. "And I still need to find my package, so you're going to come back to the cabin with me, and then you're going to tell me where it is"

Tony stared at her, stared at the gun that she still held on him, and in that moment he knew that he was going to die by her hand. He would do his best to resist telling her, no matter what she did to him, but in the end it didn't matter. She was going to kill him. Her gaze locked with his. Slowly, painfully, she was going to kill him.


	24. Time

**Chapter 24 : Time**

Kate almost growled in frustration as she got the busy signal again. She had tried to call both Gibbs and Abby alternately as she quickly covered the ground back to her car. She was sure that she had Tony's location but frustratingly there was no one available to tell. The lack of a vent for her emotion caused her to move with even more urgency as muscles tensed and adrenaline levels heightened.

She clicked the door release long before she actually reached the vehicle, almost throwing herself into the driver's seat when she did. She had started the engine and flicked it into drive, before she consciously acknowledged what she was doing; with or without backup, she was going to find Tony.

She tried to rationalize it, to justify the break in procedure as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot. Not that any conscious reasoning had gone into her decision, but she had to pretend, her report would demand it. She should be heading back to brief the rest of the team, to gain proper backup, but she wasn't going to do that, and she had to be able to say why.

The first factor was distance. Starting from the hospital, she was far closer to where she thought Tony was. Heading back to NCIS headquarters would take her in the opposite direction and add at least thirty minutes to the journey, and that's if traffic was good. And, even if she did head back and wait for backup, she could be wrong. Tony might not even be there. Then she would have wasted everybody's time; time they didn't have, because Tony was out there with a vicious, insane killer. Time was the second and more important factor in the equation and Kate could feel it running out.

She had no doubt that Julie was heading back to him, could not rid her mind of the image of Jason's blood soaked body. If Tony was at the cabin then she just might have the chance to stop the same thing from happening to him. If he was there. . . If she wasn't too late. . . She didn't really need to remind herself of the renewed urgency for finding him, did not need to remind herself of Julie's insanity, did not need to consider the fact that they really might already be too late, but she couldn't stop herself, anxiety tightening muscles that had been held taught for so long already, that they protested with pain and spasms. Her knuckles whitening as she gripped the wheel.

She pressed her foot on the accelerator. Surely a few breaks in procedure were justified? Not that it mattered; the decision had been made; she would try calling Gibbs again on the way.

NCISNCIS

A soft breeze tugged against the edges of Tony's shirt. For a moment it seemed like the only movement in the wooded clearing. There was an unnatural stillness to both of the figures who stood staring trance like at each other, as if they were both waiting for something, but neither knew what.

It was a bird taking flight that finally broke the moment, the tree branches around its position doing a quick crazy dance as it pushed off. Julie's gaze was drawn to the sound, the movement, but Tony continued to stare, at her, at the gun, she held on him, at the blood on her clothing. . . .blood?

He glanced down at his own clothes, just to check that he hadn't been bleeding, he couldn't be sure, wasn't convinced that he would have remembered, but there was nothing.

"Come on we'd better get moving."

The comment drew his attention back to her, as he met her gaze once again, and the tracks of his thoughts shifted. He was struggling to concentrate, knew that there was something he'd been considering, something significant. He knew that he'd looked away for a reason; there was something about Julie that was bothering him. He tried but whatever that thought was it was lost.

"The cabin's that way." She gestured with the gun, making it clear that she expected him to move.

"Why should I?" He asked quietly, "Why should I go with you? Why should I help you?" His tone was remarkably calm. There was a part of him that was afraid, that knew that fear was the correct response when facing down someone you knew was going to kill you, but that wasn't the part that was in control. The part that was in control was intent on challenging the situation, whatever the consequences.

A spark of anger ran through Julie, and she struggled not to act on it. She knew she was on the very edge of the rage that had killed Mike, that had killed Jason, when they wouldn't give her what she wanted. She knew that it would take hold of her once more and then she would kill Tony, but for the moment she needed to rein it in, to learn from her past mistakes. She needed the information that Tony had, needed to know where he had sent her package. She couldn't let it slip through her grasp again. In rational moments like these she understood that without that first act of rage, none of this would have been necessary. She took a deep breath as the anger flashed in her eyes and tightened her trigger finger. "Because if you don't, I will have to kill you where you stand."

"You're going to kill me anyway," Tony stated flatly, there was no challenge in it this time; it was just a statement of fact.

Julie considered for a moment; should she deny it? No, that would no longer work; she had lost Tony's trust. She gave a slight nod to acknowledge his point and then gestured again with the gun. "This way you'll live a little longer."

Tony considered it, considered whether he had the energy to care. He looked around, seeing for the first time the beauty of nature around him. The bright green grass, tall trees, tiny flowers, all caught in the tapestry of light and shade as the sun shafted through the branches. There were worse places to die, maybe this was. . .blood? His thoughts shifted again. It wasn't his blood then whose. . .? His eyes snapped to it, his mind accelerating. She had left him to find the package. Who had she gone to? Who had he inadvertently sent her. . ."You have blood on your skirt," he stated softly. He scanned upwards catching the logo on the sweatshirt she was wearing. It was a NASA sweatshirt from the Apollo landing. He knew someone with that sweatshirt, knew someone who'd visited the Kennedy Space center only weeks before and held that as his prized purchase, knew someone who lived in Brentwood, which was the last thing he'd told her before she. . . .No!

His skin ran cold. Sweeping nausea almost overwhelmed him, even as his mind screamed a denial. No, she couldn't have. . There had to be another explanation, some other reason why. . . but even as his mind tried to deny it, tried to question his reasoning, he knew that it was true. "Jason," the name froze on his lips.

"I thought he had my package," she replied, almost a snarl. "I thought he just wouldn't tell me." She stepped forward her gun lowering to waist height. "But he didn't did he?"

Tony just shook his head.

"I need you to help me so that no one else gets hurt Tony," The sickly sweet, persuasive tone was back. "You don't want anyone else to get hurt do you?"

This time Tony didn't reply he just stared at her, struggling to comprehend this latest blow, the loss of his friend cut deep. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff as it crumbled away beneath his feet. His mind desperately tried to ground itself, as she moved closer still, her body pressing close into his, the gun barrel pushing into his side, her face inches from his own.

"Of course you don't want anyone else to be hurt." She answered her own question as his eyes searched hers for something other than madness and malevolence, but there was nothing else there.

That was when he knew that he couldn't just let her kill him. No matter how much he was hurting physically, emotionally.

She had to be stopped.

He had to stop her.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs entered Abby's lab at close to a run. "What have you got?" The question left his lips the moment he was through the door.

Abby turned from her keyboard. "I've located the general area around the microwave tower that picked up the signal from Tony's cell."

McGee turned as Gibbs came up on his shoulder. "I'm cross-referencing the address book from Tony's pda for anything that matches. . ."

"And I've pulled up Tony's credit card records for the last twelve months to see if he regularly visits anywhere in the search area."

"What sort of area are we talking?" Gibbs asked.

"A region about 15 square miles, sparsely populated open country, South-East of the City."

"Show me," Gibbs directed, he always found images, maps, photographs, even diagrams helped to focus his mind. Besides, he had known Tony for several years, knew how he thought. Maybe he could come up with something familiar, something that would fit in with what he knew about the younger agent. Even as he looked up at the large plasma screen, waiting for Abby to fulfill his command, he knew that he was clutching at straws, but hey, it was all they had.

NCISNCIS

"I'm not sure I can make it back," Tony said, not even trying to hide the weakness in his voice, the shaky strained tones. "You'll have to help me." He carefully shifted everything in his expression, in his body language, to portray defeat, compliance. In his weakened state the only chance he stood was if he took her completely by surprise, so for now he would give the outward appearance of cooperation. He would bide his time, wait for his chance.

"Of course, my love" she said softly, her hand reaching up to caress the side of his face. "I'll help you and then you help me."

Tony had to fight his growing revulsion, had to force himself not to react to her unwanted closeness, her touch, even as the bile rose in his throat. He swallowed it down, schooled a neutral expression

She trailed her finger down the side of his jaw, her hand continuing to move down as she turned into him sliding her arm around his waist and her shoulder under his so that he was forced to lift his arm and rest it across the back of her neck and shoulders. The maneuver was clever and careful. She made sure that her other hand kept the gun barrel pressed against his side, a continued reminder that she was in control. "Come on," she said, increasing the pressure of the barrel slightly. "We need to hurry."

Tony gave a slight wince at the pain the gesture caused but he made no sound, instead he obligingly took a step forward, almost balking at the pain that flared in his abused abdomen. He drew in a breath through clenched teeth and did his best to ignore it. Almost wishing that he was back in the state of confused oblivion he had been in when his feet had carried him here. Then he had felt nothing, now he could feel every excruciating step.

His intention had been to let Julie take more of his weight than necessary, to somehow tire her out as he prepared to make his move. His intention had been to feign more weakness than he actually felt. He found that he could do neither. He needed to lean much of his weight onto her, as much as she could cope with, and any weakness that showed certainly wasn't faked. It was hard to do anything other than concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, but he knew he had to watch for his opportunity, knew that the longer he waited the weaker he would become. Breathing was becoming harder; his breaths were short and painful. He had to act soon.

When his chance came, he almost missed it. Something ran out through the trees to the right of them. The movement so loud and violent in the quiet forest that Julie reacted at a reflex level, the gun in her hand moving to follow what her mind perceived as a new threat.

Tony's attention was also caught as his eyes turned to follow the retreating, startled, animal, and he very nearly missed its significance. Then his own survival instincts took over, much needed adrenaline hit his system, his body pumping out the last of its reserves. This was it.

He stepped abruptly forward, twisting around at the same time to stand facing her. He waited the split second it took for her to realize what he was doing, to begin to move the gun back, and then he hit with a vicious blow to her gun arm, the force of impact increased by her own movement. It worked; the gun flew from her hand landing with a dull thud to one side. Julie jumped back away from him before he had chance to strike her again, and that was when he caught the flash of the blade for the first time. He barely had time to draw breath before she threw herself at him. The speed of the attack caught him by surprise. Fully fit, he could easily have blocked it, but his reactions were slow, his normally agile movements clumsy. He registered that she had moved back again, registered it only slightly before the new stinging pain drew his attention, and he looked down to see the thin line of blood that streaked diagonally across his chest. He looked up almost uncomprehendingly as Julie came at him again. Screaming with fury she ran at him full force, knocking him backwards to the ground, somehow landing on top of him, straddled across his abdomen as she pinned him down.

The world slowed, racked with pain and robbed of breath, all Tony could do was watch as a fury of hair and arms and silver glints of metal, rose screaming above him. There was a moment, suspended in time as stretched to her full height the image froze, he could see her face contorted in madness, bereft of all its beauty, just one last moment of stillness, and then the knife began to descend.


	25. From Madness to Malevolance

Author's note:- your feedback is always so appreciated, it makes me want to write even when RL gets crazy- many thanks for your support. We are nearing the end now. Hope you enjoy. (PS have I ever pointed out that, as an author at least, I am in fact evil?)

**Chapter 25: From Madness to Malevolence.**

Abby stood as the hybrid map and satellite image appeared on the screen. She pointed at the features on the image as she spoke about them. "Ok I've highlighted the area covered by the tower. As you can see there are only a few roads that lead in. It's mainly woodland, so if he's. . ." She paused as she noticed McGee on his feet staring, his head tilted to one side as he concentrated on one of the highlighted lines.

"Green Canyon Road," McGee read from the screen. He turned to Abby and asked almost accusingly. "Why didn't you show me this before?. . . I know . . ." The thought completed, but only in his head.

He wasn't aware that he hadn't finished the sentence, that he had momentarily severed all contacts between his brain and the outside world. He was entirely absorbed in searching for confirmation of the memory that the image had triggered. Dropping back into his seat, he rapidly began tapping keys.

Gibbs and Abby exchanged curious glances, clearly he had something; they moved to stand either side of him.

"McGee?" Gibbs asked, when the younger agent made no move to explain himself.

The tone was cutting, and uttered by Gibbs it was enough to pull McGee's focus back, make him aware that there were actually other people in the room and maybe he needed to share what he was doing. He looked up at Gibbs, his fingers still tapping the keys. "You remember you sent me to interview Tiffany?"

Gibbs brow gave a slight crease, questioning.

"Tony's hot and very limber date for the weekend," Abby supplied helpfully with her usual bouncy tone. They were close to finding Tony; she could sense it.

McGee nodded, glancing back at the screen as he checked the scrolling information. "Well the cabin they were due to spend the weekend in was. . ."

Gibbs eyes followed his to the screen. "1289 Green Canyon Road."

Both agents turned; their eyes meeting briefly as they shared the elation of success. They had found Tony, or at least the place he had gone to ground, they were sure of it. The emotion held only for a moment, they still had to get there. There was still the chance that they might be too late. . . .

As one they began to move. "Abby find Kate, tell her. . ."Gibbs was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Abby picked up.

"Abby it's Kate, I need to find Gibbs."

"Hold on," Abby said into the receiver. "Gibbs," she called him back, he and McGee were already halfway to the door. "It's Kate," she stated as he turned, pressing the speaker button.

Gibbs moved back, tossing the keys to McGee with the instruction to "Go, I'll catch you up."

Kate's slightly tinny voice drifted up from the speaker. "Gibbs?"

"I'm here."

"I've been trying to call you, the nurse at the hospital gave me a number that Tony called, I think I know where he is. . ."

"1289 Green Canyon Road." Gibbs supplied.

There was a momentary pause, followed by a flustered reply. "Yes, but how. . ."

"Tony called Gibbs," Abby began in her ever helpful rush of information, "and we got a fix on the cell phone tower, but his cell didn't have a GPS chip and then McGee. . ."

"Abby!" Gibbs cut the explanation short. He was pretty sure Kate's question had been rhetorical anyway. "It's not important, what is important is that we get there." Gibbs managed to break off there, managed to stop before his voice broke with emotion, before he admitted his concerns, before he exposed feelings that he didn't normally express, and scared his team more than he was himself. It was his strength that held them together. Trouble was it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold himself together.

Hard enough before he'd heard Tony's voice, near to impossible since, because Tony had sounded like Hell, weak and scared, breathless and confused, and then he was cut off, which meant he'd passed out or worse, and she could be back, and now he wouldn't help her because he knew what she was, not a damsel in distress but a cold blooded killer, and that meant she would have no use for him and she'd. . .

He dug his nails into the palm of his hand; it helped. It took a moment to process the fact that Kate was speaking again, that his spiral of thoughts had taken him out of the room. Damn, he couldn't afford the introspection, they didn't have the time; he concentrated back on Kate's voice.

Abby's distraction had given Kate enough time to pull her own thoughts together, to get back to the point of her call. "Well, like I say I've been trying to contact you, I'm already over halfway there, I'm just heading out of the city now."

Part of Gibbs was elated at the news; Tony would have help sooner. Part of him was concerned at the idea of Kate going in alone. "OK we're on our way, approach with caution and wait for us when you get there." He stated firmly, although he knew that it was an instruction that was unlikely to be obeyed. If Julie was there, if Tony was in danger, Kate would go in regardless. "Remember she's already killed two men."

As if she could forget.

"I'll be careful," Kate stated, not acknowledging the command.

"Er, Gibbs has gone Kate," Abby said as she watched the door swing shut, he had already been moving when he spoke his last words. Normally he would have hung up, ended the call abruptly with a click when he'd said his piece, but it wasn't his phone.

Kate was used to the abruptness. "OK, I'll report back when I get to the cabin."

"I'll be here," Abby said, with a slight melancholy to her tone, she was always there, waiting. She loved her job, but just occasionally, when the team went into a dangerous situation, when there was no evidence for her to examine, nothing left for her to confirm, just occasionally, she hated the loneliness of anxious waiting. "And Kate. . ."

"Yes Abby."

"Bring him back to us."

Kate's "I will," was so soft that Abby barely caught it. It lacked the strength and conviction that she needed, there was no reassurance in it. She stared at the phone, listening to the buzz of the dead line for a full minute before she thoughtfully clicked the button to silence it, and moved in search of a test that she could pretend to occupy her mind with.

NCISNCIS

Tony had never known true terror before. He had been afraid, as a rookie cop in his first fire fight, undercover on dangerous assignments, chased by killers across open terrain and through sewers, drugged, shot at, punched, knifed; he thought he had seen it all. He had been close to explosions, and unexploded bombs, and fires, and had seen a million ways that a person could die, facing his own mortality more than once, but until this point he had never been truly, literally, terrified. His mind just froze, his body paralysed in the moment of his death, and all he could think was that the knife was going to hit his face, and he didn't want to die ugly, and he almost gave a bitter little laugh, would have done if there had been time, if he'd had the breath for it. At what point had he allowed the surface shallowness to penetrate so deep into his psyche that his last thought in this life would be one of vanity? His act now so good that it subsumed the real him beneath

It was his last coherent thought as his senses shut down, from screaming banshee to silence. The edges of his world turned to gray, his vision tunnelling until all he could see was the knife. Pain faded, drowned out by fear, and then there was nothing.

Glimpses

Like a TV with someone flicking the remote on and off, disjointed glimpses of the world returned, gaps of an empty gray nothingness sat in between. His mind tried to process it, to piece it together like a giant puzzle.

The knife, it hadn't hit him, it had slammed into the ground beside his head. More than once. . . maybe. . . definitely. . . more than once.

Pain, he'd curled into a ball because something heavy had dug into his abused abdomen, the pain had taken his breath. He'd rolled into a ball, protective, safe.

Screams, there had been more screaming, a flurry of movement that had gone on for minutes? Hours? It had gone on, it had a frightening intensity. It scared him; he curled tighter.

Sunlight, silence, stillness, his own slightly ragged breathing; that was now.

It took a full minute for the thought to register that he was still alive, that he was lying curled in a foetal position on the grass, that he could feel the warmth of the sunlight on his face as the world around him regained some cohesion. He was still alive.

A shadow fell across his face and he looked up blinking. Julie had made some attempt to straighten her hair, her clothing. She knelt next to him, and he stared at her. She looked normal, almost beautiful again, a different species from the screaming monster that had attacked him, that had hurt him. She gently rolled him onto his back, brushing the hair off his forehead with concern.

"Please don't try that again," she said, her tone soft and even. "I won't be able to control it again." She had barely managed it this time. Wasn't quite sure how she had. She hadn't been able to stop herself from killing Mike, from killing Jason. Hadn't really wanted to, hadn't really tried. Rationally she told herself that it was because Tony was her last link to the package, that she had learnt her lesson. She ran her hand down his cheek again, her finger trailing, or maybe it was because he was so beautiful, had there been a spark of love once? She dismissed the question as irrelevant. They had to get moving, get back to the cabin. Then Tony would tell her where her package was and she would finally get it, and with it the wealth that she deserved. The thought gave her a renewed boost of energy. She needed it.

She was exhausted, drained, the rage had been more difficult to quell with its blood lust unsatisfied. She had managed to divert the knife, to stab into the ground only inches from his head, over and over, but it wasn't enough, and with each strike the knife got closer, and she knew she had to move, so she had crawled off him, oblivious to the pain she caused as her knee took her full weight on his abdomen, and then she had scrambled to the nearest tree, had vented her fury on the bark, over and over, stripping it with vicious strikes and screams to vent her rage. Until eventually the mists had cleared and a deep bone weary exhaustion had set in, the knife had fallen from bleeding knuckles and she had sunk to the ground.

It had taken all of her reserves of energy just to get up, to retrieve her knife, to find her gun, and now she needed to get Tony moving again.

She sat back on her heels and levelled the gun at him. It was the first time Tony had noticed it, though she'd held it in her hand all the time, even as her other hand caressed his face with barely concealed concern, the dichotomy only serving to emphasise her madness, even in this quiet, calm incarnation.

"We have to move now," she said sharply, leaning back further as she brought her heels under her and pushed herself to standing

Tony shifted his weight onto his elbows. "I don't think. . ."

"Get to your feet or I shoot you here." The tone was cold, the gun shifted dangerously.

Tony stared for a moment, met her gaze. The shifts in personality were lightning fast and disorientating. His ability to concentrate was already impaired by fever, by the emotional blows to his psyche, by the guilt and the anger and the frustration and the grief, by the sorrow and the exhaustion and the pain, by the myriad of responses that he wanted, and needed to make to the physical and emotional punishment he'd suffered. It wouldn't process, couldn't process. He was perilously close to shutting down from the overload.

His body made another attempt to push out adrenaline, to respond to the fear, as the remnants of terror tugged at the edge of his thoughts. In the end all he could do was respond to the here, the now. He had an instruction, backed by a very real threat. Slowly he pushed himself up, rolled on to his knees. Managed somehow to stand, shakily. A weak cough sent spasms of pain rippling across his body; bright lights danced through his field of vision and he almost went down again. He closed his eyes against the tilting movement of the earth and swallowed back the nausea, and then the arm was back around his waist, a shoulder tucked under his and he was moving again, placing one foot in front of the other in a controlled stumble forwards.

NCISNCIS

"Abby," McGee spoke into his cell as he tried to brace himself with his other hand against the jolting, bone shaking movement of the car. "Gibbs wants to know if you've heard from Kate again?"

"No, she hasn't called yet, but she did say she'd check in when she reached the cabin."

She waited as she heard McGee relay the information to Gibbs, almost caught the muffled question, which McGee helpfully repeated.

"Gibbs says call us as soon as you hear from," there was a chocked off grunt, "her. Although with Gibbs driving I don't think we'll be that far behind," McGee stated ruefully.

"I would pray for you but I'm saving all my good Karma for Tony," Abby replied with only the slightest of catches in her tone to betray the emotion.

"Don't worry Abby we'll get to him," McGee stated, trying his best to sound reassuring. He wasn't much more successful than Kate.

NCISNCIS

Tony caught his foot for the fifth time. It was inevitable on the uneven ground. He didn't have the strength to properly pick his feet up. He almost dragged both of them down as the trip caught him off balance. He barely managed to keep to his feet, increasing the pace as he literally controlled the fall into a staggering run until he was able to slow and balance again. It hurt like hell, pain was his constant companion, but the sharp shafting knives that radiated upwards with each new 'almost' fall brought their own agonies. His breathing came in audible pants. "Please," he muttered weakly, "I need to rest."

"No," Julie stated sharply. "We must keep moving. You can rest at the cabin." She urged him forward and they began moving again.

The stop was so abrupt it took a moment for Tony to register that they weren't going forwards any more. His eyes had been focused on the ground a few feet in front of him. Now he looked up hopefully, if they were at the cabin then this agony would end soon. He was disappointed to see more trees surrounding him. So why had they stopped? Was Julie going to let him rest? And then he heard it, the engine, dieing. The unmistakeable click and clunk of a car door opening and closing. Someone was here.

NCISNCIS

McGee answered on the first ring. "It's Abby, Boss," he stated for Gibbs' benefit. "She says Kate's arrived at the cabin. She stopped back in the woods about a hundred yards from where the road opens out into a clearing around it and she's gone to scout around. There's a truck there that matches the one Tony left the hospital with Julie in."

Gibbs barely resisted the temptation to swear. With evidence that Tony was actually there, Kate would take risks. He gave a sound that was closer to a growl instead, and pressed his foot even harder on the accelerator. The car bounced even more violently on the uneven road surface.

McGee gave a small yelp as he narrowly avoided biting through his tongue.

"Tell her we'll be there in ten minutes," Gibbs stated, "And if she hears from Kate again, tell her to hang back until we get there." He was going as fast as he dared. He couldn't afford to lose it, an accident at this point, however minor, could cost lives. He wanted to go faster though, so he vented the frustration the only way he could. His jaw set in a tight line, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly it was painful.

NCISNCIS

Tony slid slowly down the tree to the ground, landing with his shoulder resting into it as he stopped seated upright, waiting. The position was uncomfortable, his knees tucked at a funny angle but initially he didn't have the will or the energy to do anything but ignore it. Finally he shifted, twisting round to rest his back against the trunk, his legs stretched out but slightly bent so that his feet rested flat on the ground improving his balance.

He blinked, one moment there was only woodland, in the next Julie was there standing staring at the trees, her head moving around scanning. It looked to him like she was planning something. He blinked again and she was beside him kneeling, gently brushing the hair from his forehead, making soothing noises as you would with a sick child.

"One of your friends is here," she stated softly. "Come to find you." Her finger trailed again down his cheek.

"Friend?" he managed to ask.

"Yes, she's looking for you, the one you work with."

"Kate?" he whispered softly, questioningly, his eyes dancing with momentary hope. Kate was here. The comfort of having her so close gave a brief elation. He could rely on Kate. In his shifting world she was one of the rocks he could hold on to, and she was here, close by.

"Yes that's her," Julie confirmed. "Now, I need you to make some noise. Attract her attention so that I can deal with her."

Tony stared as a huge pit opened in his stomach and swallowed all positive emotion down. Kate being here was not a good thing, not a good thing at all. Julie would try to stop her, would try to hurt her, would try to kill her, and that would be his fault. Anyway you looked at it he would be responsible. He was why Kate was here, and he couldn't let anything happen to her. Couldn't let this monster he was with near her. "No," he stated defiantly with as much strength in his tone as he could muster. "I won't help you."

"Oh," Julie stated, "I'm sure that you will."

That was when he saw the blade again, watched it as it descended. There was no reprieve this time as it plunged into the muscle and soft flesh of his upper arm. He bit down on his lip as he used every last drop of the self-control he possessed to keep from crying out. The bitter coppery tang of blood flooded into his mouth as his teeth cut into his lip, but he held it in, against the agonising burn he held it in.

His gaze met hers defiantly and he stared into the depths of her eyes and caught a look that chilled his soul. This was not an act in the frenzy of madness as the earlier one had been. This was cold, hard, malevolence, a manifestation of evil as she took pleasure in the game, oblivious of the pain she was inflicting, this was a means to an end.

"Very good Tony," she whispered softly, "Just not good enough."

Violently she twisted the knife and Tony screamed.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	26. Destiny

**Chapter 26 :- Destiny**

Kate literally stopped breathing for a moment, her chest halting in mid movement, her foot hovering slightly above the ground, halfway through a step. She froze, as the scream seemed to rip through the air in front of her. Somewhere in her abdomen a hole opened and her insides dropped into it. 'Tony,' the name pitched like a sob through her mind, chased by accusations, snapping dog-like at the tumbling form, 'you're too late,' 'you can't help' These thoughts froze her just as much as the shock of the sound had.

It was like awareness disappeared for a moment as her mind folded in on itself. Despair now stealing her breath as she contemplated the amount of pain it would take to make Dinozzo yell out like that. Macho and image conscious to the nth degree, Tony would try everything to hold it in.

To Kate the freeze lasted endless minutes, anyone observing would barely have caught the hitch in her breathing, the sudden tensing of muscles. Instinct, training, reaction took over as she moved, pulling her gun from its holster she held it two handed, barrel down, turning her head, slowly, so that her right ear was facing the direction she thought the sound had come from.

She hesitated, unsure, the swirling mass of sound that had for moments seemed to engulf her, now gave way to silence. An eerie stillness. She swore softly, she did not have time to waste. She had to respond, had to move. She made her decision, moving forward into the trees, her eyes scanning in every direction as she slid from tree trunk to tree trunk, gaining what cover she could. Listening intently for anything more. Part of her praying for more sound so that she could pinpoint the direction, because at least if she could hear him she knew that he was still alive, but most of her praying that there would be no more sound, because that sound would be a scream, and she truly didn't want to hear her partner scream ever again.

She moved cautiously, pausing to scan the area frequently before darting to the next tree. She listened intently, knowing that it was becoming increasingly difficult to hear anything over the thundering of blood past her ears, and her own slightly harsh breathing that echoed loud and hollow around her skull.

She wasn't sure how far she moved like this, wasn't sure how long it took, time seemed to stretch and snap back like a piece of elastic. Then she saw him; she took a cautious glance around a particularly thick trunk and there he was, barely fifty yards from her, he sat half propped against a tree similar in size to the one she was behind. His head lolled forward, his arm was held awkwardly across his chest cradled in his other. Blood streaked down from near the shoulder, soaking what she could see of his shirt. She gasped, her mind flashing once more to the body of Jason Black; to the pool of blood she'd found him in, to the wounds carved across his chest. She couldn't see Tony's chest from here, his arms obscured her view. She was too far away to tell if he was breathing or not. She had to get to him; her instinct was to run forward, to reach him as quickly as she could, but that was not an option. However painful it might be, she had to remain cautious, or she would just be signing her own death warrant as well as Tony's, that's if she wasn't already too late. She swallowed convulsively, forcing herself to focus on the danger. Julie was close by and she was a threat that could not be ignored.

She scanned the area again, checked a second time for any movement any sound that was out of place, but all that she could detect was a soft flutter as the wind tugged lightly at the branches of the trees.

She stepped out from her cover and ran to the next, repeating the process six more times until she was only ten yards away. Her scans were now full 360 degree sweeps, watching for anything. She glanced down at Tony for the first time since she had caught sight of him. She had avoided looking at him. It was the only way she could concentrate, the only way she could force herself to remain calm enough to proceed cautiously.

He looked even worse from this close, too pale skin contrasting sharply against the bright red stain, and now she could smell the blood and the reactive memory dragged back the nausea full force, and she had to swallow hard to keep it down. She tried to look for signs that he was still alive, movement, sound, any indication that he was still taking breaths, for a moment her entire focus was concentrated on his still form, but it wasn't enough; she couldn't tell.

She wanted to go to him, the pull so strong now that she was fighting to resist. Fear tugged at her abdomen, fear for what she might find, but it did not diminish her need to move forward. She had to know, if he was dead, if he was alive, she had to know. She scanned one last time, nothing.

Her gun still in front, her blood pounding, she stepped from her last cover, scanned as she walked, dropped to her knees beside him. "Tony?"

NCISNCIS

Abby pressed the button that cut off the speaker phone and sat back on her stool. She hated this feeling of helplessness, but there was nothing else that she could do, nothing else for forensics to tell them. They knew who their killer was, they knew where she was and they knew who she was with. All of it irrelevant as far as Abby was concerned if they were not in time to save Tony. Mentally, she started checking back through every step, every process, every clue, to try to figure out if she'd done anything wrong, missed anything, was there any way that they could have found him more quickly? It was something she always did, her own version of self assessment, always driven to perform at her best, but rarely did the answers mean more, rarely would a mistake, or lapse hurt more.

She turned and was surprised to see Ducky standing there watching her. She gave a slight start.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you," Ducky stated, his tone soft and reassuring. He held up the plastic evidence bags that he clutched in one hand. "They're from Jason Black," he explained, stepping forward. "I thought you might need something with which to occupy your mind

Abby stepped forward accepting the proffered bags graciously, knowing that Ducky was here on more than a simple delivery; he could have sent Jimmy to do that. In fact she was sure Jimmy Palmer would have volunteered, always happy to have an excuse to come up to see her. No, Ducky was here for her. He had firsthand knowledge of how frustrating it was to wait for the team to return, especially when one of them was in danger. So Ducky had come to offer company, empathy, solace, whatever she needed and she was grateful for that.

"Thanks Ducky," she gave him the best smile that she could manage. She took the clipboard from his other hand and began to sign the log, preserving the chain of evidence.

Ducky stared at her as her face disappeared behind cascading hair, no ponytails today. He had come to offer her comfort, but the image of the carved exsanguinated body that lay on his autopsy table, coupled with the knowledge that Tony was with the perpetrator of said crime, left him with little to say.

Abby looked back up at him, an overwhelming sadness in her eyes and he knew he had to say something. "They will bring him back you know." He stated with some confidence, because he knew that much was true.

"Yes," Abby agreed, "but will it be to us," she met his gaze, "or to you?"

Ducky didn't have an answer to that, instead he just opened his arms, he had long ago accepted his avuncular role in the team. Abby didn't hesitate, she moved into the embrace, allowing Ducky to cocoon her from the harsh realities of the world for a moment. She rested her chin on his shoulder; evidence bags still gripped firmly, crushed against her chest, content to just be held. It was the only comfort either of them had.

NCISNCIS

"Tony?" her voice shook slightly, filled with trepidation. His head moved, lifting a little, and her heart leaped with elation.

She had made it in time; he was still alive.

She shifted forward, her gun dropping to the ground. With some effort he pulled his head off his chest, dropping it back against the tree's rough bark.

"Please," he whispered weakly, "No more, please."

Kate's elation evaporated at the first plea. He thought she was Julie, thought she'd come to inflict more pain, the idea forced bile up into her throat and she fought to swallow it down.

His appearance was shocking, the deterioration, from even his pale sick form in the hospital, marked. Dark circles rimmed sallow eyes, his cheeks were sunken, lines of pain cut deeply into his forehead, sweat plastered his hair to his head and beaded across his skin. She reached out to touch him, her hand hovering uncertainly, afraid to make contact, afraid of how he might react.

"Tony," she repeated his name more firmly. "Tony, it's ok it's me Kate." He wasn't looking at her yet, hadn't even tried to focus. Most of his effort seemed to be concentrated on breathing, just that seemed to be sapping all of his strength.

"I won't help you," the intent was clear, resolved, determined, but his weakness undermined him; he had nothing left to resist with, and that too was clear.

Kate's already pounding heart kicked up a notch. She needed desperately to get through to him. "Tony, look at me," still she avoided touching him, although her instinct was to grab his face and hold it until his eyes focused on her, until he knew that it was his friend and not the crazy maniac that had been torturing him. "Tony, it's Kate."

Finally he turned his gaze to meet hers, trying hard to process the conflicting information. For a while his world had dissolved into a hot magma sea of pain. There was nothing else. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open and he just couldn't see, or if he'd closed them, but there was nothing beyond the bright flashes that accompanied the pain. His skin was on fire but he had no sense of touch, no feeling for what was around him. He could have been lying cocooned in cotton wool or wrapped in barbed wire; he wouldn't have known the difference, but his senses had slowly drifted back, now he could see and hear again. He knew she was there beside him, ready to hurt him again, but her words were strange, her voice strange.. . . ? No, not strange, familiar. . it was. . . . Kate! Kate's voice.

He turned trying hard to bring her into some sort of focus, "Kate?" he asked hesitantly.

She gave him her best reassuring smile. "Yes, Tony, I'm here to get you out of here."

She wasn't sure how she expected him to react but his next movements stunned her.

He scrabbled to get some purchase with his feet, pushing his back up straighter against the trunk he succeeded in getting a few more inches away from her. "No," he shook his head. Kate shouldn't be here, he had kept her out of it, kept the team out of it so she wouldn't get hurt, so they wouldn't get hurt. She shouldn't be here now. It was his fault, his job to fix it. He needed her to get away. "No," he repeated. "You have to get out of here, away from me."

Kate's concern grew exponentially with Tony's agitation. He was rapidly sapping any reserves of energy that he may have, trying to push away from her. "Tony, please. . ."

"No, you don't understand, she's insane, crazy she'll. . ."

Kate heard the scream at the last moment, ducking and turning as she went. With effort she managed to twist round enough to block the knife, to turn and throw her opponent as part of the same maneuver, but it was a move of desperation, caught in an awkward position and off guard it lacked finesse, wrenching her shoulder slightly in the turn.

She stood and turned to face Julie taking in deep heaving breaths, cursing her own stupidity, after the caution she had approached Tony with, she shouldn't have let her guard down. She should have anticipated that Julie could be hiding nearby. Warily, she watched as Julie rolled to her feet. She risked a glance back to Tony; her gun lay uselessly next to him. She cursed herself again for making such a rookie mistake. Dammit she had been trained to protect the president. Was this all it took, one injured co-worker, to throw her off her game? One injured, tortured, tormented. . .She cut off the line of thought, she didn't have the time for recriminations now, maybe later, when they were both safe.

She turned around again, weighed up her chances of getting back to her gun. The Sunlight glinted off the knife and she knew that the risk was too great. She would be drawing the fight back to Tony; it was not an option.

She realised that Julie was looking down and followed her gaze to a second gun. It lay about six feet to her left. Julie had clearly dropped it when she was thrown, and was weighing up her own chances of reaching it. Kate would ponder why she hadn't used that instead of going for a knife attack later, for now she watched her opponent as their gazes met, and Kate saw for the first time the mania in her eyes.

Julie glanced back at the gun again and for the briefest of moments Kate thought she might have to revise her own plan. If Julie went for her weapon then her best option would be to go for her own, a desperate race to see who could reach, turn, aim and fire fastest. It was far from ideal and the only way Kate could see of preventing it was to force. Julie's hand. Moving from the defensive to the offensive, she took a step forward.

Julie grinned feraly at the move, switching the position of the knife around. She took her own step forwards, closing the distance between them even more.

"I'm a trained federal agent," Kate knew it was futile but she had to try talking her opponent down. "There are more on the way. If you just drop your weapon, I'm sure we can. . . ."

Julie's answer was to attack, the move swift and violent as she brought the knife in low and hard, charging forward but feinting to the right at the last moment. Kate blocked it and tried to turn in for another throw but Julie neatly countered it, and Kate realised that she must have some martial arts or self-defense training. She adjusted her counter-attack accordingly, concentrating on the knife hand as she grabbed and twisted. Normally the move caused enough pain to disable another counter but Julie behaved as if she didn't feel it, bringing her free hand around to grab the knife she swiped at Kate forcing her to lean back as the knife grazed across her upper arm. She dropped back and rolled hearing the wrist snap as she pulled but Julie didn't so much as grunt in pain. Twisting herself in a move that must have been impossibly painful, Julie managed to release her shattered wrist and roll away, her foot coming up and round to kick Kate on the jaw as she went.

Kate rolled back with the stinging impact, coming up to her knees slightly dazed, she blinked twice to bring Julie back into focus, but Julie hadn't turned back to her, instead she was staring at the ground. Too late Kate realised that she had rolled out next to her own gun, that that was what she was staring at. Julie dropped the knife and grabbed for the weapon turning and aiming.

A single shot rang out.


	27. Shattered

Warnings- major angst alert, and one use of a bad word that I just couldn't avoid.

**Chapter 27: Shattered.**

The sound ripped a hole in time. For the three people in the clearing, the whole world froze with the gunshot; a single moment stretched to an eternity. No one and nothing seemed to move.

Kate waited for the thud of impact, waited for the accompanying reaction. For some reason she did not feel any fear, possibly an acknowledgement that you could not fear the inevitable. Instead her mind had only questions. Would there be pain? When a bullet impacted your skull did you have time to feel it? Would there be enough left of her brain to feel it? It was so strange, such a limbo state, no emotion, only questions. Why hadn't it hit yet? What would. . . .? Had Julie's body jerked slightly? Her mouth opened just enough to let out a short sigh as her mind frantically tried to process input incongruous with what she knew had happened; the gun had fired, aimed straight between her eyes and she was dead. Wasn't she? Was that blood she could see, spreading red across Julie's white blouse?

Julie hadn't fired?

It was still a question, her mind struggling to keep up with the evidence of her senses. The shot had come from. . .she turned her head slowly.

Julie felt the thud, like a dull hard punch. She was staring down at Kate. Kate was unarmed, just kneeling there waiting to die and she was going to kill her. She felt a slight thrill at the thought, her mind dismissing the punch as irrelevant. She tried to squeeze her finger on the trigger, taking her time as she savoured the moment, another interference dealt with, another step closer to her destiny, but somehow she didn't have the strength. Her arm felt incredible heavy and she looked at it, a sudden confusion overtaking her. She looked back at Kate, watching as Kate's eyes widened, as her head turned, and she followed her gaze.

Tony, he was standing, staring into her eyes, but that didn't make sense. He didn't have the strength to stand, to hold a gun, a smoking gun. The confusion grew stronger. What was. . .? She looked down to see the blossoming red stain, looked up again as her arm dropped to her side, the gun falling from nerveless fingers and once more met Tony's gaze. No, this couldn't be. Tony was supposed to help her fulfil her destiny. Her destiny was to be rich to live in. . .and that was when her body tried to take a breath and all she could manage was a gasping hitch as the pain hit like a sledgehammer pressing hard, and the edges of her world began to gray, and fear replaced confusion as she stared deep into Tony's eyes; her expression pleading the question; why. . .? And there was the real tragedy because she truly didn't understand, had no concept of her own insanity, had no idea why anyone would want to hurt her.

Why?

Tony met the question with his own confusion and the only reason the desperate plea didn't make his heart implode, the desperate plea for understanding from the woman he'd loved on some level all his adult life, from the woman he'd just killed. The only reason his heart did not implode was because it had already shattered.

It shattered with hers as the bullet hit. He could have sworn he felt the hot metal tearing through his own flesh, ripping the muscle apart, spewing out his life blood, because he had just killed the love of his life, and love did not understand the pain she had inflicted, had not had the time to be twisted by her murderous betrayal, and so he still felt it, with every fibre of his being, he still felt it, and that made it hurt more than the knife she had twisted in his arm, because this pain tore at his very soul.

His love for her had been there so long that it was unconditional, could not be swayed by what she had done, and although he had no choice but to kill her, pulling the trigger had torn him apart. The bullet's impact had shattered his insides and her pleading quest for understanding, the naivety, the innocence of the look, threatened his sanity. She looked so confused, so scared. He could not reconcile that look with the monster he now knew she had become.

In a moment of complete lucidity, he had seen the danger Kate was in, and his rational mind had retained just enough control for him to find and grab the gun by his side, his body's last reserves of adrenaline kicking out to give him the physical capacity to function. He had drawn aim and pulled the trigger, just as he'd known he would have to, because it had been his destiny to stop her, from the moment she had asked for his help, and he knew that, but somehow that rationality could not quell the pain.

A little voice told him that he should pull the trigger again, that one bullet wasn't enough. He should double tap just to be sure. Gibbs had drilled it into him, but there was nothing in this universe that could have forced his hand to squeeze the trigger for a second time. It was pointless anyway, he knew that he had killed her, knew that the blossoming stain on her chest would stop expanding soon as her heart ceased to beat, knew that he was staring into the eyes of the woman he had killed, and he knew that he couldn't answer her question, couldn't adequately explain to her why it had come to this, why what she had done was wrong. He knew that her insanity wouldn't allow it, would never see it, and, as she dropped to her knees still staring at him, he felt the knife twist in his gut, every bit as real as the one she had twisted in his arm, and the pain engulfed him.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs double footed the brake, barely lifting his foot from the floored accelerator as the brake pedal hit the metal. The engine and the tyres squealed with equal volume as the tyres fought for traction and the car skidded to a violent stop. Both men were thrown forwards, only the locking of their seatbelts keeping them in relative safety.

McGee had tried to brace himself against the dash for the inevitable impact as they rapidly approached the two vehicles left on the road, but it was inadequate even for Gibbs' braking, would not have saved him if Gibbs had misjudged, only his seatbelt and the inevitable airbag would do that. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as the car slid to a shuddering halt, and it took his brain a moment to process the fact that there had been no accompanying thud, that there was no billowing sheet of white in his face, that they had in fact managed to stop short.

By the time he'd managed to suck in a deep breath and open his eyes, Gibbs door was open and he was already standing, aiming over it at the car parked only a few feet away, behind Kate's. McGee hurriedly scrambled to join him, taking up a similar position to Gibbs on his own side before glancing across. The sight of the unknown vehicle between theirs and Kate's and Gibbs reaction to it would have been enough to dump an adrenaline surge into his system, but he didn't notice any additional effects, his blood was already pounding, his breathing hard, his senses heightened. Gibbs driving alone was enough for that; his fear for the state they would find Tony in was enough for that. This additional unexpected sign of danger may have added more chemicals to the mix, but how would he tell? He wasn't sure that his heart could beat any faster.

Without a word Gibbs signalled that McGee should cover him, and he moved around his door, approaching the rear of the car cautiously.

McGee drew in another deep breath, doing his best to calm himself. He scanned the whole of the surrounding area rapidly, all of his senses alert for any sign of danger, but he kept his gun trained on the car. That was where Gibbs was headed, that was the most likely source. The fact that it was behind Kate's meant that someone else was here. Either Kate had beaten Julie back and Julie was behind her, or there was someone else in the game, neither was good.

Gibbs moved to a position where he could sweep the car's interior. He did so with his gun as well as his eyes, but there was nothing. "Clear," he said relaxing his stance a little as his eyes did their own sweep of the surroundings. He turned his head back towards McGee, intent in barking out an order, but it was unnecessary McGee already had his cell out.

"Abby, We need a name on a Virginia Plate License. . ."

Gibbs almost smiled, would have if the situation hadn't been so dire. When it really came down to it his team wouldn't let him down, but any smile would have died instantly anyway. Would he let Tony down? Had he already? His insides twisted as he turned to scan the surroundings again.

Abby bombarded McGee with questions even as her fingers tapped the keys. She had approached the ringing phone with a mixture of fear and trepidation, Ducky stood only a few feet away and she could feel the same emotions emanating from him, filling the air between them as though they were living breathing entities.

She had expected the call to be one with information, one to tell her about Tony. Whether he was. . To tell her if Tony was. . . Had Kate found him? Had they found Kate? Instead she got a request for information, and, although part of her snapped into professional mode and began the necessary search, although she knew that McGee wouldn't be asking if it wasn't relevant, if it wasn't somehow important to finding Tony, she still resented the fact that it didn't answer the most important, the most fundamental question to her at that time.

"OK McGee Are you there? Did you find Kate yet? Any sign of Julie? Any sign of Tony?"

"We just arrived," McGee replied, understanding the slightly desperate echo of worry that tinged the questions. He was finding the not knowing what was happening frustrating enough himself, and he was there in the field, doing the searching. He knew that it must be even worse for Abby stuck back in the lab. "There's a car parked up behind Kate's and no sign of anyone around." McGee turned slowly to watch Gibbs; he had opened the door of the mystery vehicle and was checking the insides. They needed to know who else was out here with them. "Gibbs is checking out the car now," he stated.

Gibbs backed out of the car as Abby replied, "OK I've got it the car belongs to. . "

McGee got the name in stereo, Gibbs in one ear, Abby in the other. "Detective Sergeant Will Adams."

"He's after the diamonds," McGee stated.

Gibbs met his gaze, his eyes glinting a steel blue as his jaw set in anger. "And that means he's after Tony," he stated. That was all they needed a murderous cop, a greedy cop who had already put two bullets into Tony's chest, albeit that they weren't meant to kill, to add to the mix, and he was behind Kate. She had no idea that he was there, and they had no way of warning her because ringing her cell could give away her position; they couldn't risk it. He turned purposefully as he set his jaw, clamping so hard that the muscle in the side twitched. He ran his eyes over the ground, looking for anything to indicate the direction they had taken, spotting something he took off at a run.

"Abby I'm sorry I've got to go, I'll call when we find anything," McGee flipped his cell phone closed without giving her a chance to reply, and then he was off, and running after Gibbs as he headed into the tree line that bordered the road.

NCISNCIS

Kate watched Tony for a moment, marvelling that he was standing at all given the condition he was in. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. It streaked in swathes across his torn shirt and down his pants creating blotchy patches of light and dark. His pale skin looked gaunt, his face drawn, and there was something uncharacteristically fragile about him, and yet there was a strength too. He stood in a pose she had seen him adopt many times before, legs slightly apart one forward of the other, his gun arm supported by a steady hand. Her gun, plucked from where she had dropped it, steady and unwavering, still pointed at Julie. It was a strength borne of training, of familiarity. He simultaneously looked as though he could hold that position all day, and as if a strong wind would blow him over.

A soft thud behind her drew her attention back to Julie, and she turned to see her on her knees now. Kate's curiosity was held as she watched the pleading question, the expression of confusion. Watched as Julie's face contorted in fear and pain. Watched as her eyes emptied and she finally fell to the ground, and all she could feel was relief. Relief that this insane murderous bitch, and, although she didn't swear, it was the only word her mind could apply, was dead, that she had paid for her crimes, relief that she would never torture and kill anyone again. Would not be able to hurt Tony again. . . . . . . Tony!

She turned quickly again to look at him, and now all the strength was gone, his arm dropped to his side, the gun slipping from his fingers. She could see the tears welling as he continued to stare past her to Julie's corpse, and she caught the look of regret, the deep pain that contorted his features. He looked so incredibly, so impossibly vulnerable that she wanted to grab him, and hold him, and protect him from the things that were causing such pain.

She pushed herself to her feet and moved to his side, frightened by the fact that his gaze never wavered from Julie's corpse, frightened by the dull emptiness that lay behind his eyes.

"Tony," she offered hesitantly. He didn't seem to hear her. "Tony," she said again forcing more strength into her tone.

This time he turned; turned his empty gaze toward her, and her breath hitched. She had been wrong, even in death Julie had the power to hurt him.

It took a moment to recognise her, a moment more for his mind to process why she was there. He'd had to shoot Julie to save Kate, had to protect Kate. "Kate?" He questioned tentatively, unsure of the evidence of his own senses. He scanned her quickly, spotted the blood on her arm. "You're hurt," he stated, "God, Kate I'm sorry that she hurt you."

Kate automatically followed his gaze to her arm, and the small dribble of blood where the knife had grazed her, and she almost laughed hysterically, almost called him a sexist pig for worrying about her tiny scratch more than his own bruised, battered, deeply cut body. Instead she answered him, recognising the concern he had. It was the same concern she had for him, and this wasn't a contest, just because he was hurt worse didn't mean his concern was any less real. Julie had come within a sliver of killing her. Her tone wavered, not quite as steady as she'd like. "It's OK, I'm OK."

"You're sure?" and he couldn't hide the slightly desperate worry in his tone.

"Yes Tony, I'm fine," she stated firmly, knowing that he needed to hear it.

He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and then turned his gaze back to Julie. She was still there, still dead. He had still killed her. He fought the tears now, the water stung his eyes but he did not cry. He gave a slight shiver and swayed as the world shifted.

Kate didn't know what to do, didn't know how to reach him, how to help him. There didn't seem to be anywhere on his body that she could touch, anywhere that wasn't bloody or bruised, or both, and his breathing was getting worse, definitely worse. She concentrated her attention on his arm. "We need to stop that bleeding," she stated, taking refuge in the practical. "And we need to get you some help." She studied him for a moment, he was unsteady on his feet. Did she get him lay down, stop the bleeding and then bring back help or did she try to get him back to the road, back to the car whilst he was still standing, whilst she still had some hope of moving him?

One look into his eyes was enough. She couldn't leave him here, not with her, even if she was dead. Her decision made, she moved round to support him, placing her shoulder under his, and her arm around his waist, exactly as Julie had done, and, although she had no way of knowing it, the action triggered a reactive memory and Tony slipped out of the present. "Come on, Tony," she stated softly as she urged him to move.

"No," he said, his voice equally soft, "No, Julie please, no further." Despite his protests Tony began to move, knowing that he had no choice that she would kill him if. . .but that was wrong there was. . . .

Kate felt her insides twist once more with the emotion. She hated seeing her partner like this, so damaged, so physically and emotionally broken. She wanted to stop and take the time to get him to recognise her again, to get him to remember that Julie was dead. . or maybe not, it seemed to hurt him so much. Even though she was evil and he had to know that, after what she had done to him he had to know. . but she didn't have the time. She had to keep him moving while she still could.

Now she was holding him she could feel the fever, the heat radiating off him. She could feel the weakness as he leant his weight into her, and so she just ignored his protests and started them both moving, away from the clearing, away from Julie.

"Ah isn't that sweet,"

Kate's head jerked up at the unfamiliar voice. She had been so intent on supporting Tony that she hadn't noticed the stranger step out directly across their path. Except it wasn't a stranger, she recognised him as she lifted her eyes to meet his, noted the pistol pointed directly at Tony.

"Supporting your injured partner back to your car," Sergeant Adams stated sarcastically. "Shame that neither of you are going to make it."

Kate just glared at him, realising that once again her concern for Tony had outweighed any of her instincts and training, both guns had been left in the clearing.

"I can see that Julie had resorted to more extreme methods to get you to tell her where the diamonds are Mr Dinozzo."

Tony blinked at the stranger unsteadily, as he recognised his own name in the jumble of words.

"Did you tell her? Not that it matters since I assume by the fact that you're still alive that she isn't."

"She got what she deserved," Kate stated defiantly.

"Well that's good; she was crazy." He gave an evil grin, "I'm not, but that won't stop me from carrying on where she left off if I have to. I want those diamonds." His tone had a dangerously desperate edge to it. "And I'll do anything necessary to get them." He drew back the hammer on his pistol.


	28. Noble Sacrifice

**Chapter 28 : Noble sacrifice.**

Tony struggled to clear his thoughts as he recognised the new danger. He was on the brink of collapse, physical and emotional. Hanging on to reality was taking more strength than he had, and he was aware enough to know that his hold kept slipping. He had to claw through the mush that his mind had become just to force some sense from the nightmare of pain that defined his current existence. He didn't have the energy, the will to fight any longer, and yet there was something, something that came from deep within that wouldn't let him give up. Something that had pulled him through his nightmare childhood, something that gave him resilience in the face of adversity. It was the strength that defined him even through his vulnerability, the same dichotomy that Kate had seen in the clearing. The strength that Gibbs recognised and respected, and, ultimately, had made Gibbs take him on as one of his team. It was a strength he now used, despite protests of both body and mind as he forced shaky limbs to take his full weight. He took the smallest of steps forwards, dropping his arm from Kate's shoulders, his hand dropping to catch hold of her wrist, taking both strength and balance from her as he shifted slightly in front her, the protective gesture clear despite the minimum movement.

"She has nothing to do with this," the obvious effort it took to draw in enough breath to form the sentence did not lessen its quiet intensity. He had protected her once from this mess, his mess. He would do so again. It did not occur to him that she was here to do the same for him. That he was the one in need of help, in need of protection, because that would mean he had given up, and he wouldn't give up while he was conscious and drawing breath. Not if someone needed him. "Let her go and I'll tell you what you need to know. I'll tell you where the diamonds are."

Kate would have reacted but she was too shocked. No, it needed a stronger term than that; awestruck would be closer. Tony had taken her completely by surprise. She expected him to slip into unconsciousness at any moment, expected a fever driven delirium. She did not expect clarity of thought; she did not expect strength and protection, although as she looked at him she realised she should have. This was part of what made Tony, Tony. What made him so likeable despite all of the irritating personality traits that sat on the surface, because deep down he had a spirit that was noble and unselfish, as Abby had pointed out, he would give his life for you.

She turned to stare at Adams, to see how he would react. She knew that she should be the one doing something but all she could manage was a fascinated stare.

Adams sneered his reply. "Oh. I know you'll tell me, but you have to realise that I can't just let you go. You know too much." He adjusted his aim to point at Tony's kneecap. "The only question is how much pain you have to endure before you give me the information I need."

"And you have to realise what the consequences would be of killing two federal agents," Tony stated. "You're a cop, think about it. Think about the effort we put in when its one of our own." Tony paused, watching. His comments were having the desired effect. He could almost see Adams' thoughts connecting. He didn't know how much longer he could keep going so he pressed his advantage. "Then multiply it by a hundred fold. Our boss Gibbs is an ex-marine. He'll hunt you down." The name got a reaction. "You've met him haven't you?"

Adams didn't answer but he didn't have to. His expression betrayed him.

"Kill us and he won't rest until you're dead, wherever you go."

Kate finally snapped out of her stupor enough to find her voice. "You know he's telling the truth," she supported.

For the first time since the start of the encounter Adams started to look uncomfortable, not in control. "What are you suggesting?" he asked.

"Let Kate go and I'll take you to the diamonds. You can use me as a hostage, insurance, whatever, a guarantee that you get what you want."

Kate was abruptly reminded of her conversation with Abby. _"Scenario number two; you are being held by kidnappers and you've been hurt. Tony's trying to negotiate for your release but they'll only accept another hostage. What does he do?"_

"_Volunteers to take my place." Kate stated, again without hesitation._

"_Even if it means certain death for whoever the kidnappers take as a replacement?" Abby asked, relishing her role._

"_Yes," Kate nodded, "Even if it means certain death."_

"Tony, No," she protested sharply and tried to move forward, but he gave her wrist a slight squeeze, held her with a strength she didn't think possible, and turned pain filled eyes to meet and hold her gaze for just a second. It was enough to convey a plea for cooperation, enough to hold the request that she should let him do this, enough to stop further protests.

She knew that he wouldn't listen to her, knew deep down that this was the best chance for both of them to stay alive. Adams wouldn't kill Tony until he had the diamonds. If they could stall for long enough Gibbs would come; he hadn't been that far behind her, but still it was hard for her to let Tony be taken again, he had already suffered so much. She blinked once and gave him a small, almost imperceptible, nod of acquiescence, if not for the reasons he thought. She wasn't letting him sacrifice himself; she was stalling for time.

A relieved smile tugged at the edge of his lips, then he turned back to Adams.

"What do you suggest?" Adams asked.

"Handcuff her to a tree. You'll have the diamonds and be clear before anyone even finds her."

"And you'll come with me willingly?"

Tony nodded.

"How do I know that once we're away from here you'll tell me where the diamonds are?"

Tony gave a grim smile. "Losing a kneecap will be just as painful wherever I am," he stated.

Adams thought about it for only a moment more before he nodded. "OK." He unclipped the handcuffs from his belt and threw them to Kate. They landed on the floor at her feet. Adams gestured with his gun. "That tree there will do."

Tony gave Kate's wrist one more squeeze of reassurance, then he let go, stepping forward, stepping away from her, the message clear, but Kate did not move, could not move. Now that it came down to it she couldn't let him do this. He was too weak. "Tony. . ."

"He makes a strong case for keeping you alive," Adams said, his tone once again dangerous. "But I will kill you if I have to." He gestured again. "That tree will do."

Kate let out a slow breath and bent to retrieve the handcuffs. She moved to the tree reluctantly, her gaze drifting between Tony and Adams, whilst Tony's gaze remained unwavering on the gun, and Kate realised that he was poised for that one last suicidal act, if it looked like Adams was actually going to use it. She drew in another long breath and kept her movements unthreatening as she closed the cuffs around one wrist and then circled her arms around the young tree, clipping the other cuff in place and holding her wrists up for Adams to inspect.

He moved forward cautiously, circling so that he did not come too close to Tony. When he was close enough he quickly checked that the cuffs had been locked into place and then stepped back. He turned to Tony. "OK let's get moving."

Tony ignored him for a moment as his gaze met Kate's for what he knew would be the last time. "Kate. . . ." There were so many things he'd wanted to say to her. He'd thought that he'd die without ever seeing her again, thought that Julie would kill him, and here he was with a second chance, and still he couldn't put what he wanted to say into words, couldn't tell her how much he cared for her, couldn't tell her how important it had been to him that she liked him, respected him. The pause hung in the air for a second, emotion filling the void between them, stealing her breath away, and then the moment was past, the opportunity gone. "Tell Gibbs I'm sorry," he stated quietly and then turned away.

He looked across at Adams. "If you want me to make it to your car then you'll have to help," he stated, swaying slightly.

Adams regarded him coldly, assessing the statement. It didn't take long, nodding he moved to fill the position Kate had vacated. "OK but don't try anything," he stated as he half dragged Tony forward at about twice the speed Kate had been moving him. Tony tried to stifle it but couldn't help the grunt of pain.

Kate pulled her arms tight, resting her forearms and her face against the rough bark as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She had failed Tony twice now, first with Julie and now with Adams, and for that she would never forgive herself. She watched their movement until they disappeared from view and then continued to watch long after there was nothing to see. She had lost him again.

Tony held on for as long as he could, but as he moved away from Kate his need to fight lessened with each step. She was safe, that was all that was important. He was already resigned to his own death. Hell, on some levels he was already dead, a walking shell, destroyed by that which he loved.

And as his need to fight decreased so the pain and the effects of the fever increased, and reality once more slipped away, until only a stumbling mass of firing pain receptors moved forwards, in a world which contained nothing else.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	29. Rescue

Author's note: It's OK I can hear the comments- What's taken so long? It's been so long I've forgotten what's happening. . .etc. . .etc. All I can do is humbly apologise- RL is really not being kind at the moment and just to make matters worse my computer died at the weekend- RIP. . . Oh well I hope it hasn't spoilt the story too much- we are heading towards an ending now but I can't promise there will be no more surprises.

A nice long chapter to make up for the delay- let me know as ever if you enjoy it. Thanks for the ever appreciated support- J

**Chapter 29: Rescue**

Gibbs caught sight of the mound of rumpled cloth and knew it for what it was long before he could make out enough detail to tell him who it was. There was a body ahead, obscured by the trees, partially hidden by the long grass and clumps of brush that lay between him and it, but there was no doubting that it was a body. His heart missed several beats, skipping erratically as he tried to draw in enough breath to keep up his pace, to push down the fear that once more tried to twist his intestines into knots. ' Not Tony. . . not Tony,' he repeated to himself, his lips moving to ghost the words but no sound came out. He repeated the mantra, knew it to be true, because Tony wasn't dead. He'd know if he was dead. He wasn't sure how, just that he would know.

He kept his gun out in front of him, kept scanning ahead, but he did not try to hide his approach as Kate had, did not check from cover to cover. If there was someone there waiting for him then he would know when they fired at him. Only then would he take cover, only then would he allow his pace to slow. Until then he would rely on the speed with which he moved to protect him from all but the best of aims. The sort of aim that could only come from a sniper, and, if there was a sniper out there, then he was dead anyway and no amount of cover would make any difference. It was more the approach of a trained Marine than a trained agent, but when you really got down to it, that was who Gibbs was.

He dodged around trees, jumped over low brush, all the time his attention focused on the still form. 'Not Tony,' breath, 'not Tony,' breath. Details gradually began to form on the crumpled mass. . . . .Female? . . . . A little hope stirred. . . Yes, female. . . . not Tony. The connections were too slow in a suddenly slow motion world, exertion, lack of oxygen, fear, they all dragged on his thoughts like heavy weights, slowing them. Not Tony. . . . his mind finally shaped it into a form it could understand. . . not Tony . . . there was almost time for relief before. . . .female? . . Kate?

He had to force himself to draw in the next breath, a swift hard pant; his insides continuing their random contortions. Kate?. . . and now the question stalled in his mind, even as he scanned for more, for confirmation or denial.

He took a few more steps, slow motion versions of his normal run. Wrong clothes, his brain just about managed to force the logical connections, not what Kate was wearing. . . therefore. . . not Kate. Finally relief flooded his system.

The distance between him and his target now disappeared more quickly; his long strides eating up the ground, now that he didn't need them to, now that he knew.

The relief flooded all other thoughts from his mind, by the time the wave receded he was kneeling by the corpse of Mrs. Julie Simpson, and now a new emotion threatened to overwhelm him, this time a familiar emotion, an old friend. He stared down at the body, checked for a pulse despite what the staring empty eyes already told him; she was dead, and that fact sparked a deep white hot anger that once again stole his focus.

He felt cheated; she was dead, and there was no higher price she could pay, but still it wasn't enough. He wanted to make her suffer, suffer as much as she had made Tony suffer, and he could not do that now, could not inflict the pain she deserved. Whether he would actually have done it or not was irrelevant, now he would never get the chance; he was too late. The anger sizzled through his mind. He looked down and had to resist the temptation to hit the empty shell that was there. This wasn't justice . She deserved worse. A bullet through the heart was too quick, too painless compared to what she had done to Tony, too quick and painless by far.

His hands fisted in a white knuckle grip as he fought to push the anger down, forced his mind to concentrate on the more immediate problem. Julie was dead, so where was Tony? Where was Kate?

He turned his head, slowly scanning the area for any sign of his missing agents, and caught sight of McGee. Somehow he had forgotten the younger agent was with him. He hadn't noticed him as he'd been running, hadn't heard him enter the clearing behind him, hadn't noticed as he took up a defensive position scanning the area for danger whilst he was checking the body, but he noticed him now.

McGee had managed to keep Gibbs in sight, had just about managed to match his pace, and was slightly ashamed at the fact that he found it so hard, given their difference in age he should have been able to keep up easily, but his chest was heaving, sweat running from his forehead by the time Gibbs halted and dropped to his knees. It took him a moment to realize why he'd stopped, all of his energy to that point had been concentrated on not embarrassing, or, worse still, injuring himself by tripping headfirst over a lose bush or tree root, on keeping a view of where Gibbs was going. He hadn't noticed the body until they were on top of it.

He recognised Julie Simpson straight away from her photograph, knew that she was dead just by looking at her. His own emotional reaction to the fact surprised him. He was getting more used to dealing with bodies now. No, that wasn't the right way to phrase it, not used to. . .familiar perhaps. . . not as shocked, revulsed, disturbed? He wasn't sure; it just wasn't as hard as it had been the first few times, but he still usually felt something, had some sort of empathy with the corpses, some sorrow at their passing, but not this time. This time all he could feel was relief. He was glad she was dead, pleased even and that wasn't like him. That wasn't like him at all.

He swallowed hard and looked away, concentrated on scanning around him, searching for signs of danger. Searching for signs of Tony and Kate. That was when he noticed the dark stain on the grass. Lowering his weapon he moved rapidly over to it, his turn to drop to his knees, his fingers moving down to touch the drying liquid, to confirm what he already knew.

"McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"It's blood, a lot of it, and it's still fresh," McGee answered the unspoken question, his eyes raising to lock with Gibbs'.

Gibbs studied the grass between them, looked back at the corpse and then scanned across to where McGee was, finally meeting his gaze again.

"It's not hers," he stated quietly, his jaw twitching as he tensed it at the end of the sentence. He did not have to verbalise the conclusion. They both knew that that meant it was Tony's or Kate's.

Gibbs pushed himself to standing and moved over to McGee who also stood, his eyes now intently scanning the ground. It took nearly a minute to find what he was looking for, working out in widening arcs from the blood pool. He pointed at the small spot of blood that had dripped onto the grass. "This way," he stated, and once again they were both moving.

NCISNCIS

A small voice stirred in the back of Kate's head, quiet at first but rapidly growing in volume as it fed upon her strong instincts, her training, her strength of character. What was she doing? It berated her for her inaction. Tony was being dragged away by a killer and she was standing here leaning her head against a tree feeling sorry for herself? No! That wasn't good enough. She had to shake off the emotion. It had almost cost her own life already, not to mention Tony's. Goddammit she was a trained agent. She could and should do better than this.

She looked at the cuffs, all she needed was the key and she had one of those. She dropped to the ground, maneuvering her left foot round so that her hands could pull off her shoe. Thankful simultaneously for her yoga classes and for Gibbs drumming into them rules which meant they were always prepared. She had to feel into the lining and it took her a few moments but eventually she pulled out the key and managed to insert it into the lock.

She was scrambling to her feet before the cuffs were even opened. Moving rapidly as soon as they did, she set off back towards the clearing where she had found Julie's body. She needed to be armed if she stood any chance of getting Tony back.

She was concentrating on running, didn't notice the figure until he stepped out in front of her, blocking the path, gun pointed at her head.

"Kate?"

"Gibbs?" Kate almost jumped backwards, it was the third time someone had jumped out on her in the last half hour, and her system reacted with a deeper shock because of it. Concern, fear, anger, anxiety, guilt, all fought in her mind for attention as fight or flight chemicals once more spiked through her system. She struggled to gain coherence as Gibbs lowered his weapon and stared at her.

McGee stepped out behind Gibbs and she jumped back a little more.

Gibbs had heard Kate's approach, the rustling forest sounds of movement unmistakable to his trained hearing. He had signaled silently to McGee to take cover, but there was no way to identify who was approaching without looking and giving away their position. So he had waited until they were close, stepped out to give maximum advantage, maximum surprise. Only relaxing when he recognised Kate.

He scanned her critically, noting the streak of blood down her arm, her blood stained blouse. "You hurt?" he asked, concerned.

Kate ignored the question. "I'm sorry Gibbs I screwed up. . ." Somehow the need to confess her errors, to take responsibility for what had happened was stronger than anything else.

"Kate," Gibbs interrupted again, worried by the slightly manic expression in her eyes. He had never seen her so out of control, so emotional, "Are you hurt?" he asked again.

She stared at him for a moment as her mind processed the question, realising that it was the second time of asking. She followed his gaze down to her arm. "Just a scratch," she responded

Gibbs nodded, satisfied with the response. "Where's Tony?" he asked

Again Kate couldn't quite frame her answer to match the question. There was so much Gibbs needed to know. "Julie's dead. . .".

"We know we found the body."

But Gibbs didn't know, didn't know how Tony had been tortured, didn't know how Julie had got the drop on her, how Tony had been forced to kill her, how much that had cost him. Finally she forced some words out. It was meant to be a calm report. It came out more like a gush of information. "Tony killed her. . .She was going to kill me, I let her get the drop on me, I was trying to help Tony. . and. . ."

Gibbs was worried. "Kate," he snapped forcefully.

She stopped and blinked at him.

"Where's Tony?" he asked once again, his tone switching instantly to become remarkably patient, calm. Concern etched his features. It was a rare emotion for Gibbs to so openly display and had all the more meaning for that.

She stared for another moment as her own thoughts calmed, the adrenaline burst finally beginning to subside. "Adams took him." She turned and pointed. "That way, about five minutes ago."

Gibbs nodded again, pulling one of the guns he had retrieved from the clearing from his pocket. He handed it to her. "Then let's go get him."

NCISNCIS

Tony drifted on the edge of waking nightmares, the lingering echoes of his reality, or at least what it had become in the past few days, torture, pain, deceit, betrayal. Scenes, snatched and shifted as he was half dragged forwards, pain flaring with each step.

His mind tried desperately to make sense of the overloading input, to compensate for the increasingly failing systems. Fine chemical balances that maintained temperature, fluids, energy, all were spiraling out of control, everything stretched far beyond its capacity to self heal, physical and emotional systems were breaking down, tearing him apart at all levels, and still he fought desperately to hold on, to survive. Although he could no longer remember why he wanted to. Why he would want to exist in a world that had torn his soul to shreds.

Still, a nagging voice in the back of his mind was telling him to hold on, that it was important. . . .just hold on Tony.

Adams felt Tony weaken with every step and looked across at the face of the man he had kidnapped. He cursed himself for his decision. Tony was barely conscious and would not remain standing for much longer. He should have tried to force the information from him at the clearing, at least there Tony had still been coherent.

He stuffed the gun that he held back in his pocket, Tony was in no condition to fight back, and used his free hand to grab on to Tony's arm to stop it slipping from his shoulder. He wasn't surprised when a few steps later Tony's knees began to buckle, and he found himself taking Tony's full weight.

Adams swore bitterly. Holding on tight, he leaned back and to the side just managing to stop Tony's now dead weight from pulling them both to the ground. He maneuvered as well as he could to a nearby tree, propping Tony against it, so that he could move himself round to get his shoulder under Tony's abdomen. With a grunt he pushed upwards and locked his knees lifting him into a fireman's carry. He took a step back from the tree and froze.

The cold metal barrel pressed hard into the soft part of his neck.

"You did a good job picking him up." Gibbs voice was icy. "And now you're going to put him down." There was a pause, the air between them freezing. "As gently as you would a newborn child." Gibbs leaned in, his hot breath felt heavy against Adam's neck, contrasting sharply with the icy tones. "And if you so much as ruffle his hair," he stated quietly. "Then I'll blow your head clean off your shoulders."

Adams swallowed in reaction to the threat, Gibbs delivery made it entirely believable.

Gibbs pulled his head back, pressing the gun just a little more into Adam's neck. "Are we clear?"

Adams gave a slight nod, and waited. Gibbs tilted his head to one side, making him wait, building the tension by increments. If his concern hadn't been for Tony, he would have made it longer, much longer, but there would be time for that later, in interrogation, when Tony was safe.

"Good," he stated abruptly, pulling back the gun, taking a small step back. "McGee will help you."

McGee moved in obligingly, placing his own gun in his pocket before gently helping to support Tony's head and shoulder's as Adams put him down.

Adams took great care, stepping back once Tony was down, his eyes nervously watching Gibbs. Whilst he had been holding Tony he was reasonably sure that Gibbs wouldn't do anything, but now. . .? The air bristled with emotion, and Adams knew that most of the anger was centred on him. That the three agents could easily get away with 'shooting him whilst escaping.' It was ironic that his own corrupt thinking now fed his fear.

Gibbs, however, was more interested in Tony. "Kate?" he questioned, looking across at her, but she was way ahead of him.

"That tree," she gestured, dangling the handcuffs that Adams had used on her.

Adams moved without question, Kate's expression had been murderous when he had left her, and her expression now was exponentially worse. He swallowed nervously again, his glances flickering between the two agents, even as Gibbs continued to ignore him.

Kate was far from gentle as she closed the cuffs around first one wrist then the other, and he winced at the treatment. "Hey," he started to protest, but didn't get to finish as Kate slipped her arm between his wrists and the cuffs, hooked it into her elbow and violently leant back. Adam's face smacked into the tree as his arms were pulled forward.

"Oops," Kate said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "I'm sorry, I was just checking the cuffs were tight. Guess they are"

Adams barely had time to refocus before she was walking away.

Kate's attention went back to Tony. Gibbs was kneeling by his side, pulling off his shirt to reveal a plain white t-shirt underneath, his jacket was already resting across Tony's legs and McGee's was under his head. She walked across as Gibbs began ripping his shirt into strips.

"Medivac Chopper's on its way boss," McGee stated as he hung up his cell and knelt on Tony's other side. "They estimate 10-15 minutes, they'll try to land by the cabin."

Gibbs nodded. "We need to get this bleeding under control," he stated, sounding much calmer than he felt. He'd had just enough field training to know what to do, to know what symptoms and signs to look for, and nothing looked good. Tony's colour, his shallow breathing, thready pulse, skin that was hot to the touch, not to mention the loss of consciousness, there was no response to his name, minimal response to a sternal rub, all told him that time was not on their side.

He tore away the remaining tattered fabric of Tony's shirt sleeve, needing to get a better look at the still bleeding wound. He heard the sharp intakes of breath from either side of him as they all caught sight of the mess Tony's upper arm was in. His own reaction was to swear softly. He knew how the wound had been caused, had seen it before. He could almost hear Ducky's descriptive nasal tones.

"Yes the knife was inserted with some force through the fleshy part of the upper arm, the tip barely missed the bone, and then it was twisted violently in an anticlockwise direction. I'm afraid it would have caused some considerable. . . ."

No! If Ducky was talking then Tony would have to be. . . Just no. He shut off the line of thought before it could go any further.

"Was he shot?" McGee asked, dragging Gibbs' focus back.

"No," Gibbs stated firmly, "It's a knife wound." He clamped his jaw, unwilling or unable to provide further explanation, he concentrated on getting the bleeding stopped. "Help me lift his arm." Kate obliged as he wrapped the pieces of shirt tightly. Not exactly a pressure bandage, but it would do until the EMTs could get there.

Kate looked across at McGee as she held Tony's arm, catching his gaze they stared at each other for a moment, gaining strength from a shared empathy. It didn't take much imagination to realize what would have to have been done with the knife to cause such a wound, nor to realize just how much pain. . .That was when it hit Kate, the scream, the reason she had come running, the ambush. Julie had. . .She looked down at the now wrapped wound, blood already seeping through the too thin fabric. Julie had done this to lure her in, and although every rational part of her knew that she wasn't responsible, the guilt for the pain still hit her, hard.

Gibbs now concentrated on the rest of the blood that streaked across Tony's chest. He pulled back fabric, more tentatively this time. He was relieved to find only a shallow wound, but it was long, and cut through the bruising that was already present. He pressed the remaining piece of shirt over it, nothing more he could do, and sat back on his heels. "How long?" he asked, looking up at McGee.

"Five to ten minutes" McGee supplied, knowing that Gibbs was asking how long until help arrived.

Gibbs narrowly avoided swearing again, no need to let the others see just how worried he was.

Did they have that long?

"We can't risk moving him," he stated, glancing down at Tony before looking back up. "You and Kate head for the cabin. Guide them back here."

"Er. .OK," McGee agreed pushing himself to standing.

"Kate?" Gibbs questioned when she didn't move.

Kate looked up, her eyes defocusing for a moment as her brain processed the last minute of speech. It was as if the words were sitting in an input buffer waiting for her to get to them. Her gaze met his as the question finally formed. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. "OK, but which way is the cabin?" she asked.

Gibbs stared at her for the moment it took him to realise she was serious. "McGee?"

He too was scanning the surrounding trees. "Sorry. . .I. . Er. . ."

Gibbs almost growled in frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Tony, now that he had found him. Especially since leaving now could mean. . .if he didn't get back in time. . . . He drew in a deep breath. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. He was Tony's best chance. He had to get him the help he needed. "I'll go, you two look after him." He gestured unnecessarily to Tony, pulling the jacket up so that it covered his chest, the gesture immeasurably paternal. "Keep him warm and if he comes round try to keep him still and calm." He pushed himself up, frustrated. He needed to stay; he needed to go. As ever, pragmatism won over sentiment, but it was unusually close.

"Wait," McGee stated, pulling his pda from his pocket. "I can use GPS. . ."

But Gibbs was already moving. "I'll be back soon." He tossed the comment back over his shoulder and was gone.

Kate looked back at McGee then down at Tony. Neither had Gibbs training or expertise but it didn't take that to realise just how serious Tony's condition was. Nor how cruel it would be to simultaneously find and lose him.

Kate moved a little closer, pulling Tony's hand from beneath the jacket so that she could clasp it in her own. It was the best she could do, the only comfort she could offer, and it wasn't enough.

McGee dropped back to his knees, his own hand at first hovering and then resting on Tony's shoulder. He was unnerved by the slight tremors that continually shook the heated skin. He looked up at Kate, needing to share his concern again, but her focus was entirely on Tony.

"Hold on," the words barely formed, unknowingly echoing Tony's own subconscious. "Help's coming Tony, you just need to hold on."

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	30. Caught Between a Rock and Himself

**Chapter 30: Caught between a rock and himself**.

Gibbs could see the chopper now as well as hear it. The tiny black speck in the sky was increasing in size slowly, an amorphous black dot growing by increments, but it wasn't quick enough, not nearly quick enough. Just as his running hadn't been quick enough.

His perception of time had slowed again. It was because he needed it to move quickly; he needed it to and so it didn't. Every agonising second of the wait was drawn out, stretched by anxious worry. They didn't have the time; Tony didn't have the time.

He bent over, resting his hands on his legs, he allowed his head and his gaze to drop away from the chopper, away from his desperation for them to fly faster, to arrive now. He closed his eyes and forced his thoughts to calm, concentrating his entire effort on drawing in slow, deep breaths. Filling his lungs with much needed air, slow, deep calming. . .dammit what was taking them so long? Couldn't they fly the damn thing any. . .

He pushed himself back to standing, swallowing down the spiraling tension that would not let his thoughts rest. His gaze returning to the chopper which was now at least big enough to be recognisable, but it still wasn't close enough, wasn't fast enough, and all he could do was watch; attempt to level out his frazzled breathing, and watch.

His fists clenched white knuckled, and his palms once more took the assault of muscles tensed by impatience. Not fast enough, not fast enough, the words repeated like a drumbeat in his head and still all he could do was watch and wait.

He was moving before it was safe, ducking his head and closing his eyes against the harsh downdraft that flung grass and dust swirling into the air. He helped lift out one of the heavy bags of equipment and was off and moving, pausing at the edge of the clearing only to ensure that the paramedics were following.

They were, close and efficient; showing enough urgency to calm and worry him simultaneously, as his own tension reflected back in their every expression, their every movement.

Gibbs turned now and ran once more. He knew that his movement was slowed by the heavy bag, but the ground seemed to pass more swiftly than it had on his journey there; grass and shrubs blurring as long strides ate up the uneven grassland. Time was passing more normally, but, cruelly, it was now the distance that seemed to take on an elastic quality. No matter how quickly he moved, no matter how much ground he covered, when he looked up he was no closer to his destination.

He'd experienced this many times before, in combat, in his current job. Perceptions altered, reality skewed by a heady mix of tension and adrenaline, but never before had it seemed so cruel.

His jaw clenched, so tight it hurt. He attempted to quicken his pace once more, his heart lifting a little as the ground sped by faster only to sink again as he looked up to see the distance stretch further.

Dammit, not fast enough, not near enough. . . Not fast enough . . .

NCISNCIS

"Bethesda. . . They'll take him back to Bethesda right?" Abby turned from the computer screen, her eyes bright and wide as only hers could be. Nervous energy vibrated off her now, filling the air around her. She had some news and it wasn't good.

She wasn't good at handling news that wasn't good.

She wasn't good at expressing that negativity either.

'Not good,' the only phrasing that her brain would allow. 'Bad,' that had the wrong aura for this situation. If she used the word 'bad,' if she allowed that the situation was 'bad,' then it would somehow make it that much worse.

So she was sticking with her thoughts. The news wasn't good, but there was hope there right? They had found him, right? And he was still alive and help was on its way and. . . . and. . . and she wasn't good at handling this, not good at all.

In the absence of anything more constructive to do, she'd been monitoring the team's cells. McGee's had called 911. She hadn't had the time to tap into it, to listen in on the actual call but she knew how to access the Emergency database, the operators there helpfully recording and logging everything. So she had the salient details; Agent down, blood loss, unconscious, high fever, male, - Tony, it could only be Tony, and that so wasn't good.

She didn't give Ducky time to reply. "Of course they'll take him to Bethesda, it's the nearest. . ."

"Well that would depend. . . ." Ducky began, interrupting her because intellectually he had to. He was about to suggest that it would depend on the injuries, the level of trauma, the reason for. . .but one look into her eyes was enough. He cut himself off and nodded sagely, his next words prefaced by a slight sigh. She wasn't asking for real facts, she was seeking a practical distraction from her thoughts. "Yes," he replied gently, "They'll probably take him to Bethesda."

"Then we should go," Abby stated, "Be there for him when he arrives." Again her eyes widened, and her expression changed to a youthful earnestness that only she and five year old children could manage. "He'll need us there."

Ducky nodded again. They could always divert on the way if Tony was taken elsewhere. He lifted his arm in invitation, "We'll stop by autopsy for my keys on the way out," he suggested, his tone still soft. It was a gentle way of pointing out that she was in no state to drive. She moved her shoulder under his, and they set off together. Ducky gently shepherding his distraught young friend whilst saying his own small prayer that they would arrive in time. He had read the screen she had pulled up, and, although the information was scant, he knew enough about Tony's injuries before he left the hospital to be worried, and now he had evidence of infection and more blood loss. Ducky had no qualms about the use of language, for young Anthony Dinozzo, things were bad, very bad.

NCISNCIS

The light wind rippled the grass and Kate, distracted by the movement, glanced across at it. The reaction was just that, pure reaction, a response to movement from the primitive part of her brain. There was no conscious thought involved, her thoughts were too far away, too wrapped up in an emotional turmoil for her to respond to the world in anything but the most basic sense. She turned her head, on some level her mind did enough processing to recognise that there was no danger. Her gaze returned to Tony, returned to watching the slight movements of his chest up and down, her confirmation that he was still breathing, still alive.

She replayed events over and over in her mind, and each time she found herself more culpable, guilt building by increments. She had been careless, had driven too close to the cabin, Julie had somehow heard her and had laid a trap, and that trap involved hurting Tony, torturing Tony. If she'd approached more cautiously Julie wouldn't have known, wouldn't have hurt him, wouldn't have. . . . He wouldn't be. . . . . .

She watched the slight rise and fall of his chest again, it was OK, he was still breathing, help would come. He would be all right.

Slightly reassured, as much by her own mantra as by what she saw, she allowed her vision to drift again as the guilt took hold once more. That had only been her first mistake. She'd let Julie get the jump on her, had forced Tony into a position where he had to kill her, and that had hurt him, really hurt him. Even if he survived this physically, emotionally that would continue to hurt him. She could see now that what Gibbs had told her was true, despite everything he had still loved her, and now he had to live forever with the guilt of killing her. Despite all of his bravado, despite the selfish front that he carefully displayed to the world, she knew that underneath he cared deeply, bruised easily, and that meant he would feel the pain, and that was her fault. She should have been able to take at least that burden from him.

Finally she'd let him use the last of his strength to save her. Rationally she knew it was the right, the only way things could have played out, but rational had little to do with her thought processes at the moment. Rational had little to do with the barely breathing, badly injured, hurting partner whose hand rested limply in hers.

If only she'd approached more cautiously, he was hurt badly enough already, she. . .

"It wasn't your fault Kate."

She looked up McGee was watching, his expression taut, drawn. "Whatever happened here, none of it was your fault."

Was her guilt that obvious? Was she so easy to read? She met his gaze. She guessed she must be because she could see the concern there. There was silence for a moment whilst she formed a reply, tried to put into words the reasons for the almost overwhelming emotions that were assailing her, but she couldn't express it, and part of her knew that that was because he was right, but that was the rational part of her mind and that had somehow become completely detached from her emotions.

She pointed at Tony's arm, blood was already seeping through Gibbs' makeshift bandage. "She did that to him to set a trap for me," she stated quietly, leaning forward to brush some of the sweat soaked hair from his forehead.

McGee swallowed. "Not your fault Kate," he reassured.

She turned to look at him, and a perverse impulse made her want to shock him, to shock him as she was shocked, then maybe he would understand. She stared for a moment her gaze capturing and holding his as unshed tears welled in her eyes. "He screamed McGee," there was the slightest of pauses. "He wouldn't have screamed when she first stabbed him. No, not Tony," She nodded down at the blood on his chin. "He bit his lip until it bled to stop himself from screaming when she drove the knife into his arm." Her tone was suddenly cold almost cruel, "He only screamed when she twisted it." She looked back up at McGee "Have you ever heard a friend scream in pain?" Her voice was getting louder, her speech faster. She leaned, challenging, towards him, and McGee was forced back a little by the emotional wall she was projecting. "He screamed so that I would come running, because she knew I was there, she used him as bait, because I was there, and I fell for it, fell for her ambush, and I couldn't help him. . ." her voice broke a little now. "I tried to stop her but I couldn't, she had a gun at my head and. . ."

McGee was leaning back now. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say, how to react to Kate's obvious distress, how to handle his own worry for the man he had nothing in common with, who mercilessly abused him, but whom he still looked up to, still considered to be a friend, because Tony Dinozzo had a way of getting under your skin. A way of making you like him, despite everything about him telling you that rationally you shouldn't, and McGee was having a difficult time handling the idea that they might lose him, and he knew Kate was too. He wanted to help her, wanted to say something that would help her deal with her pain, but he had already tried, and evidently he had made things worse. So he closed his mouth again and waited.

Kate could feel the hysteria building, could see the empathy in McGee's eyes, knew that she shouldn't have given in to the impulse. She was on the edge of losing emotional control and she couldn't afford to do that. She bit onto her own lip, held her breath, forced herself to calm, forced her thoughts to stop, just stop, get a grip, hold on. . . . calm down . . . calm down. She felt the growing tide ebb, the panic forming into a definite wave that receded slowly, washing back through her mind, and, finally, she allowed herself a breath, a long slow breath. She dropped back onto her heels and looked down at Tony again, and now her voice was barely above a whisper. "He had to kill her to save me." She brushed at his hair again tenderly, an unnecessary gesture since it had not moved, he had not moved, and then there was silence and stillness, apart from the light wind that rippled the grass.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs stared in through the doorway to the ICU bed where monitors beeped and tubes dripped, the only confirmation that the battered still form was alive. No doubt there were other signs if he got closer, the faint shivers and grey sheen of sweat from the fever was no doubt still visible, if he got closer. . . .if. .

He studied the white bandages that sheaved one arm and criss-crossed Tony's chest, contrasting sharply with the purple bruising, and he tried hard to block out the trauma and tension of the last few hours. He tried hard to force his muscles to relax, but they wouldn't, the memories too strong, the fear still too real.

The arrival back in the clearing had mostly been a blur. Kate and McGee had both turned scarily haunted expressions to him as he and the EMTs had run in. Only their frantic scrambling back to give the medics access, gave him hope that they weren't too late, because that was the thought that had hold of his gut and was twisting mercilessly, that was the thought that was dancing around with his perceptions in its grasp, that was the thought that had been nagging and gnawing at him since Tony had gone missing, while they worked through leads, when they found him, half dead, that was the thought. . . .

'Too late, you're too late'.

Ice poured down.

Over his head, creeping.

Down his face, sliding.

Gravity clawing it down, freezing his skin as it passed.

He watched the medics work. He had been too late before, had failed to save someone before, more than once in combat, but not since leaving the marines, not since. . . not Tony; he couldn't lose. . .

The frenetic scrambling continued, and Gibbs could tell by their movements, by the needles and IV packs and dressings that the situation was as desperate as he thought

it was, and he didn't want to watch, didn't want to get this close and fail, didn't want to fail.

Gibbs didn't fail.

Except he did.

Everyone thought he didn't. He had them all convinced that he didn't, it was part of his armour. Gibbs didn't fail, and particularly when it was important. He didn't fail, he didn't let people down. . . .

Except he did.

He turned hard on his heel, ripping his gaze away, unable to watch any longer, in case they couldn't. . .in case. . .

He walked over to where Adams was cuffed to the tree. He was leaning against it, one shoulder turned to the trunk, taking his weight. He shuffled his feet, standing more upright to meet Gibbs as he approached, fear tracked across his features.

Gibbs expression was a mask, but his sheer presence could strike fear into someone who didn't know him, and Adams did know him a little, and the little he knew was enough.

Gibbs nodded down at the cuffs. "Where's your key?" he asked gruffly.

Adams licked his lips nervously. "Jacket pocket," he replied, turning slightly to indicate the side.

Gibbs stuck his hand in and retrieved the tiny silver handcuff key, and then proceeded to frisk Adams, properly. He wasn't gentle about it, kicking Adams legs apart and checking those first. As he moved up his torso he moved his head so that his mouth was inches from Adam's ear. "In a minute," his tone was soft but intense and all the more intimidating for it. "We're going to be leaving to get Agent Dinozzo the help he needs." He paused, blocking out the small voice that repeated, 'you're too late, you're too late' over and over. "You," he said, his voice now dripping with some of the ice that coated his skin, "will be staying here."

Without waiting for a reaction Gibbs stepped back and turned.

"Wait," Kate had moved to join him, glad of the distraction from watching the frenzied attempts to save her partner, to keep him alive. "Take his shoes," she stated firmly.

Gibbs gave her a slightly bemused look, but then turned sharply. "You heard her, your shoes," he ordered, no question in his tone at all.

For a moment Adams looked like he might protest, but with both Gibbs and Kate glaring at him he quickly gave up and dropped down, pulling his shoes from his feet. It was Kate who walked over to retrieve them, flinging them away into some small bushes.

Gibbs studied her silently. Her every movement was slightly forced, the effort of holding herself together causing slight tremors in overly tensed muscles. She turned and met his gaze, as if she'd felt his scrutiny. Her expression spoke volumes of the fear and frustration she was feeling, again it mirrored his own. He caught the moment that she realised it, the moment that she knew he was just as afraid as she was, the slight expression of surprise because she didn't expect it, not from him, and then the empathy of the exchange became uncomfortable and he had to cover it, his expression hardening as he turned once again to watch the medics.

Kate turned too and they were both moving forward to help before either of them realised it as the EMTs transferred Tony into the Stoke's stretcher, ready to leave.

"Wait," Adams shouted from behind them, the yelping word enough to get Gibbs to turn in reaction. "You can't just leave me here."

Gibbs kept walking as he gave his reply. "We'll send someone back for you." He took another pace backwards. "In the meantime I'd avoid shouting if I were you. . . .attracts the bears." It was a cheap shot, Gibbs knew it, but Adams had been partly responsible for Tony's current state and Gibbs really wanted to do more, much more, but for now he had other priorities. He moved to pick up one corner of the stretcher, McGee took the other with the medics at the front, and then they were moving.

The flight had taken fifteen minutes, Gibbs had gone with Tony, there was no conversation about it, no discussion, he just had, leaving Kate and McGee in the clearing, to coordinate the teams, to tidy things up. Something he really should have done, something he normally would have done, because the job came first, but not today. . . not today.

Three hours later and the best they could give him was critical but stable, and now it was the worst kind of waiting game.

Abby was sitting with him now, holding on to one of his hands, regaling him with stories that made even less sense than some of Ducky's, tears hovering constantly at the edge of her eyes.

Abby and Ducky had arrived only shortly after he had, and then they had all stood and waited in an emotionally charged, uncomfortable silence, even Abby was silent. Gibbs had never known Abby to be silent, emotional situations usually made her want to talk more, and Gibbs spared her a few covert glances of concern.

They stood patiently until Doctor Clarke came to talk to them, came to tell them that they still might lose him. He dressed it up with platitudes and explanations, but it all added up to the same thing; Tony had just been through too much, the beating, the blood loss, it had left his system too weak to fight the infection and so they might lose him. . . .

Ducky had left to pick up Julie's body, grateful for the activity. He, like Gibbs, had seen too many good young people die, not just the ones that he encountered in his work, but people he knew, people he cared about. It was a natural consequence of getting older, losing those you care about, but it was always particularly hard when you lost the young vibrant ones, always hard, better to keep busy.

Gibbs wasn't sure how long ago that had been, he had followed Abby here, had reached the door and stopped. 'You were too late, too late to save him,' the voice repeated, and that was the thought that kept him from entering the room, because he'd watched too many men die, and he couldn't do it again, didn't want to do it again, not now, not Tony.

He felt the presence of someone next to him seconds before he spoke, but he did not turn until the words were out.

"Gibbs, we need to talk," Fornell stated succinctly

NCISNCIS

"No!" the reply almost exploded out of Gibbs and he turned away from Fornell moving forward so that he was mere inches away from the wall of the elevator as he attempted to reign in his frustration. His hands went out at first in fists and then he changed at the last minute and flat palmed the metal wall. "No, you can't ask me this. Dammit he's barely alive."

"But he is alive Jethro," Fornell stated quietly. He understood, he empathised with Gibbs position, hated himself for what he was having to ask, but he had to ask it. He had his own man to protect and that was why he truly understood Gibbs reaction. "You owe me," Fornell began.

Gibbs turned and glared at that point. If anything it was the other way around, Gibbs had pulled Fornell's ass out of the fire more than once and he knew it.

"My guy went dark shortly after Dinozzo's escape from the warehouse." Fornell offered, by way of explanation for the comment. "There's been no contact with him since. Remember he's the one who got them to lay off the beating. Whatever Dinozzo got into after that, my guy stopped them from killing him."

"But not from beating him half to death," Gibbs stated bitterly.

"And what was he supposed to do?" It was Fornell's turn to let his frustration show. "Blow his cover and get them both killed?"

Gibbs met his gaze. "You could have let me know what was going on," he stated, his tone much calmer.

Fornell gave a slight shrug. He could have, but things didn't work like that and Gibbs knew that they didn't work like that. "He's been off the radar for almost thirty six hours." He paused, allowing Gibbs to think about the implications of that statement. He hated himself for what he was going to say next, it was emotional blackmail and he knew it, but it was one of the few tools at his disposal and, even with Gibbs, he wasn't past using any means necessary. It was almost expected, part of their interaction. He needed Gibbs' help, and he would do what he had to do to get it. "He has a wife and a young son, just four years old." He paused. He knew exactly what he was asking, knew how hard it would be and still he had to ask. "So, will you help me?"

And there was the question. Part of him wanted to scream 'no!' again, wanted to walk out and forget Fornell's problem, let him deal with it himself, because helping him involved using Tony and Tony had been through enough and Tony was barely holding on to life and Tony . . . Tony would help out in a heartbeat, whatever the cost

Torn between his protective instincts and his duty Gibbs had a decision to make, and going either way could cost a man his life. One of those men was Tony and should that matter? To protect Tony at the cost of another, could he do that? Should he do that?

Gibbs turned to stare into Fornell's eyes, and saw those same fierce loyalties and protective instincts staring back at him, and for the first time he truly understood the dilemma Tony had faced in that hospital room only the day before.

He sucked in a slow breath, turning away he rested both palms against the sides of the elevator. "OK, I'll do it." He stated quietly.


	31. Guilt

Author's note:- Ok so here' the last twist in the tale (unless my overly devious mind comes up with another one of course. Thanks so much for the continuing support and the patience, the next chapter should be up a lot sooner- J

**Chapter 31: Guilt**

McGee found himself in charge. For the first time in his life he found himself in charge of something that didn't involve technology. Usually he was given responsibility because the person with the real power didn't have a clue how something operated or what could be done with the computers at his or her disposal. That was when they would place him in charge; let him take over. In a world where he felt comfortable, confident, a world where there was none of that slight awkwardness that he felt when he interacted with people. Machines he understood, but people. . .

There had been that semester at MIT when he'd foolishly agreed to stand in as president of the debating society, promising to step in for a friend. Not really the best position for someone with a stammer that got worse when he was placed in stressful situations. If possible he tried not to think about it, tried not to remember all of those staring expectant faces, his inability to get the words, words that were definitely in his head, out through vocal chords and constricting throat muscles that just would not cooperate.

He looked at the sea of expectant faces that stared at him now and swallowed.

"Special Agent McGee?" Agent Molloy asked, as he and his team waited to find out the reason they'd been called out.

A mild sense of panic gripped McGee. He just wasn't used to this. Gibbs took charge and on the odd occasion when Gibbs wasn't there then Tony took it on and if Tony wasn't there it was Kate and he, he was the probie the bottom of the food chain the. . . He looked at the expectant faces still staring back at him . . . Dammit, get a grip McGee, you're not in school now

He swallowed again; Gibbs had left him to do this. Well him and Kate, but Kate didn't seem to be in much of a state to coordinate anything at the moment. She had disappeared soon after he'd made the call. So that essentially meant Gibbs had left it to him.

Gibbs had left it to him; he repeated the thought. Gibbs had left it to him. . ., which meant Gibbs thought that he could handle it, which meant. . . He looked Molloy directly in the eye. He could do this. An unexpected confidence swelled from somewhere deep within. He drew in a deep breath and without a hint of a stammer began. "Ok we're looking at a possible kidnap and torture of a federal agent. One of the suspects is dead and. . .

McGee's confidence grew with every word. If they could have seen him Gibbs and Tony would have been proud, but they would never see this because it was a confidence that of necessity grew from their absence. The group of agents moved off following McGee's lead.

NCISNCIS

Kate hurried through the hospital corridors. She felt slightly guilty about leaving McGee alone to coordinate the teams at the crime scene but there were other more powerful emotions driving her. She bit her lip as she waited for the elevator and cursed herself once again for the time it had taken her to get herself together enough to come here.

She'd watched the helicopter until it had disappeared over the tree line and from there nothing had registered for quite a while. She vaguely remembered McGee trying to speak to her. She probably owed him an apology for that, as well as one for deserting him, leaving him to do all the work.

Her next clear memory was of standing by Julie's body staring at the base of the tree where she had found Tony, staring at the patch of copper brown stain on the ground where Tony had been lying bleeding, hurting. . . .She bit her lip and tried to hold back the tears that welled again as a sliver of guilt coiled down her spine and pushed into her abdomen. It played there, randomly squeezing, pulling open an empty pit for the rest of her insides to fall into. She was supposed to help him and he had needed her help, had needed her, and she had let him down, let him, no, forced him to kill. . . .

She turned to look at Julie's body, the eyes still stared questioningly out at the world. If the darkened lips had moved and the lifeless corpse breathed the word 'why' Kate wouldn't have been surprised, but she didn't have an answer, didn't know why. Working in a world where she saw so much needless pain, so many people die before their time, it was a question you tried not to ask, and most of the time she succeeded in avoiding it, most of the time, but not today.

Today the question was digging around in her mind, trying to find answers that were not there.

"Special Agent Todd?"

She looked up to see Agent Molloy, staring at her with concern. "We've been working around you," he stated almost apologetically, indicating the team of agents that now filled the small clearing. "But we really need to do these angles on the photographs." He pointed behind her to agent Steiner who gave her a weak smile and unnecessarily gestured with his camera toward the tree behind her. ". . .And finish checking for trace."

It was then that she realized what a true liability she had become, then that she realized that she really was in no state to be there. She should have followed Gibbs lead, gone straight to the hospital. She was far too wrapped up in this to be of any use.

"Of course," she replied, faking a half smile "I'm sorry, I was just lost in thought. I . . ." She struggled to find an explanation for her behaviour that would seem reasonable.

"It's OK," Agent Molloy's eyes held only sympathy. "I'd be the same if it was my partner." His hand tapped her shoulder. "Why don't you go find out how he's doing?"

Kate gave a more convincing smile. "Thanks," she said quietly, "I will."

The journey to the hospital had then been a nightmare. An accident on the interstate involving all four lanes had traffic backed up in every direction, and so Kate had spent over an hour in hot frustration as she crawled along, more time for the fear and guilt to grow, every update she called for simply giving her an unsatisfactory 'no change.'

But she was here now. Here and determined to see Tony. To alleviate even the tinniest amount of her fear by seeing him would be a relief.

She thought she was prepared for anything but as she stepped round the corner into the ICU suite she felt like she had walked into plate glass. She stopped abruptly in her tracks and stared.

There were two black suited men standing outside Tony's room clearly guarding it Two more stood slightly further down the corridor in conversation with Fornell and Gibbs whose back was to her. Abby was leaning with her back against the wall, one lace gloved arm across her chest holding the other as tears ran down her cheeks.

Several thoughts hit simultaneously in Kate's already emotion clouded brain. What? Why? Who? Doesn't matter he must be dead. But why the FBI? Dead? No! Can't be. . . can't be. . . Abby's crying. Her stomach lurched, the chasm created by her earlier guilt paling into insignificance as the whole of her insides dropped away. She hadn't really believed that he could die, not really, but the evidence seemed to be undeniably in front of her. Didn't it? And still her mind screamed denial. It just couldn't be, but if it wasn't then . . . What? Why?

There were too many questions, too many unknowns. She needed to move forward and find out what had happened, what was happening, but she couldn't seem to send the right messages couldn't seem to move. The invisible window blocked her and she pushed against it, until finally her leg took a shaky step forward, and she was moving, and once she was moving her energy seemed to return and she surged forward.

"Abby what. . .?"

She didn't get any further with the question as Abby moved to meet her. "Kate, Oh Kate it's terrible you've got to make him stop them, because he's just letting them, and its Tony and he shouldn't be. ."

"Abby what's wrong? Is it Tony is he. . ."

Abby stopped her own tirade at Kate's interruption and blinked, saw the fear, realized what Kate must be thinking, all of the activity, her own tears. "No, no, he's all right, he's still stable. He's not. . ." and like Kate she couldn't force herself to form the word.

"Then what?" Kate asked. "Why the tears?" For an emotional person Kate knew that Abby did not cry easily.

Abby turned an accusing look over her shoulder. "Its Gibbs," she stated with an uncharacteristic vehemence "He's let the FBI take over." She turned back to Kate, sadness and anger mixing in equal measure in her expression. ". . .And they've arrested him. They've arrested Tony." Her tone was soft, less confident than her usual one. "He's practically in a coma, why would they. . ."

Kate struggled to deal with an emotional flip that was the most violent she'd ever dealt with, from despair to anger in one powerful surge, she allowed the shock to register as her mouth dropped open.

"Why would he let them do that?" Abby asked. There was absolute conviction in the thought that Gibbs could have stopped them if he'd wanted to. "Why?" she asked again.

Why indeed

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .


	32. Emotions

Author's note:- OK I'm posting this mainly so you'll all be assured that I haven't abandoned this story completely- I've been a lot busier than I thought I would be. I'm afraid it doesn't move the plot along much but these sorts of scenes are the ones I love writing. I hope you forgive my indulgence and I hope you enjoy- As ever thank you for your kind feedback it keeps me going- J

ps please e-mail if you want a synopsis of the plot so far

**Chapter 32: Emotions**

Kate placed a hand on Abby's arm. She ducked her head slightly to catch Abby's gaze which had dropped to the floor as another tear formed. "I don't know why," she said softly, with a tenderness that belied the hot emotion that was bubbling rapidly to the surface. It was a softness that came of empathy, of understanding Abby's confusion.

Abby now met her gaze, her eyes following Kate's as she straightened again.

"I don't know why," Kate repeated, holding eye contact for just a moment more, as an infinity of understanding passed between them. Then she looked past Abby to where Gibbs was standing with Fornell. "But I intend to find out," she stated, the hand on Abby's arm gave a slight squeeze as her attention focussed on the two men, anger taking hold again. She stepped round her friend determinedly, moving down the corridor as Gibbs turned

Gibbs himself wasn't sure if it was sound or something else that caused him to look back. There was a distinct shift in the sterile atmosphere as an emotional cloud crackled down the corridor, the source obvious as the air around Kate seemed to steam. The FBI agents at Tony's door bristled slightly and adjusted their stance so they were straighter, more alert, their gazes also shifting in Kate's direction.

This was a moment Gibbs had been dreading, and he almost dropped his head, almost let the emotion seep out through the layers of protection he'd built. He'd already had to face Abby's accusing glares and worse, the tears that she'd tried to hold back, but he knew would come. It had almost been his undoing. He knew that she needed him to explain. She needed to know why he was letting the FBI throw them out of Tony's room, place the younger agent under apparent arrest. She needed him to explain why that was necessary, what the plan was, why Tony would want it this way, but if he did that he wouldn't be able to hold the emotion in himself. He was afraid that he would fall apart, give in to the fear and the anger and the frustration and the sheer terror of losing one of his own. This was not just Semper Fi, although that in itself would be strong enough. No, this was more than that, this was Tony, and the bond of affection he'd formed for the younger man ran deep into his soul, bordered on the paternal. Tony's need for a father figure in his life had somehow broken through Gibbs defences, although he'd never admit it. Couldn't admit it because it would mean exposing a part of himself that he'd long since buried, that tragedy had forced him to bury. He couldn't face that pain again and so he cut it off, blocked it with the only weapon he had, a practiced and apparent indifference that he wore like a shield, but even through that it hurt.

When Abby met his gaze and the first tear slid down her cheek, it hurt, but he had no other defences then, and he had no other defences now as he turned to meet Kate's onslaught. So he threw up more barriers, more emotional roadblocks that by definition had to block everything; he couldn't pick and choose. His expression was completely neutral. "Can I help you Agent Todd?" he asked, his tone even. "Didn't I leave you at the crime scene."

Kate gave him a look that could have killed, if you believed looks could kill, but then she did something far worse; she ignored him. She walked straight past him, ignoring his question, and he stood for a moment unmoving as his mind registered her voice, angry, sharp.

"What the Hell is going on Fornell? What are you doing? Tony's a victim here, not a suspect, he was damn near killed twice, kidnapped, tortured. . .What right do you have. . ."

"Special Agent Dinozzo interfered with a federal investigation. . ." Fornell countered.

"He's a federal agent. . ." Kate had no qualms about getting up in Fornell's face, if Gibbs was going to play along with this that was his decision, but she was damn sure she wasn't going to.

Gibbs turned to watch Kate square up against Fornell. He knew that he should do something, should step in, call Kate off, diffuse the situation, maybe even explain. . .but he couldn't, for the same reasons that he couldn't explain it to Abby. Still he should do something, should. . .

"Who had no involvement in this case until he decided to aid and abet a murder suspect in evading justice," Fornell allowed his volume to increase, not at all phased by Kate's reaction, it helped to make the whole setup look more believable; the sort of emotion that Gibb's people were showing was difficult to fake. "Not to mention smuggling that's linked to organised crime. . ."

"There's no evidence that he knew. . ."

"Stoppit," it came out as a single word from just behind Kate; Abby had moved up after her. "Tony's lying in that room and he could be. ." she stifled a small sniff forcing the words to come. "He could be dying." She looked first into Fornell's eyes and then into Kate's as she turned. "This argument shouldn't be the last thing he ever hears." Her voice dropped a little. "It just shouldn't."

Gibbs could have kissed her, it gave him just the escape he needed, the emotional equivalent of a candle snuffer for Kate's flame.

"She's right," Gibbs stated, "what we need to do is get out of here and prove Tony's innocence."

Kate stared at him for a moment, the anger still burned. She looked back at Fornell's implacable expression, and then to Gibbs again. "You're going to leave Tony with these people?" Her voice had an incredulous tone now.

"Just long enough to prove he's innocent of what they're accusing him," Gibbs stated.

He turned to look at Fornell. "We'll be back." He turned back to Kate, glanced at her then at Abby "You coming?" He asked but didn't wait for an answer before he began to stride away.

Abby gave a sniff and a shrug and followed, she didn't really want to leave but the rational, analytical side of her personality could see the logic of Gibbs statement. If they were going to get Tony out of this Gibbs would need her in her lab, not standing here unable to see him, unable to do any good.

Fornell needed to give one last bluster. "Your people had better not interfere further in my investigation." He shouted after them, "or you'll all be under arrest."

Kate watched them move away. She knew that she had to go to, that Gibbs probably had a good reason for what he was doing. He always did. She didn't have the same blind faith that Abby had, knew that even Gibbs couldn't easily ignore a federal warrant, but she knew that he would try, and she knew that she needed to help him sort this mess out for Tony, that no matter how much she hated his indifference, his lack of emotion, she still had to go and help him, but she couldn't leave, not quite yet.

"I want to see him," her eyes flashed with fire, still challenging.

Fornell studied her. He opened his mouth to answer and she knew by his eyes by the set of his expression that it would be 'no,' and she couldn't let it be no. She needed to see him, needed to apologise to him, needed the reassurance that he was still alive before she could do anything else

Her tone softened as the need within her demanded that she succeed in her request. "Please."

Fornell paused again, his mouth still slightly open. She saw the indecision pass across his face, watched him as he studied her expression again. Then he looked deep into her eyes and let out a sigh. "I'll give you five minutes," he said, "Doctor's won't allow more than that anyway, but I can't let you be alone with him." He turned and nodded at the guards on the door.

NCISNCIS

Kate bit back the tears and stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, the whole process taking on an unnatural alien feel as she forced herself to move through the oppressive air that seemed to push her back, away from him; an invisible mire that hindered her progress, pushing against her movement. She couldn't cry, wouldn't cry. She wasn't sure if it would have been different if she were alone, but she wasn't, the nameless, faceless presence of the FBI agent loomed behind her and she knew that she would not shed a tear whilst he was there, wouldn't, couldn't. She bit her lip again as control almost escaped her.

He looked so still, so fragile, his skin still had an unnatural translucence, and although the lines of pain were slightly smoothed by the cocktail of drugs that flowed through the various tubes into his arm, she could still see them, still knew their depth, could almost see the daggers to his soul as he flinched and shivered in a fever induced, drug induced unnatural sleep that in waking would only lead to pain.

She made an attempt to see the positive, the monitors, the tubes of blood, of fluids of oxygen, they were helping him. The bright white bandages, cushioning pillows and soft sheets, were comforting, protecting, healing, but she could not fool herself. His injuries went far deeper than the bruises and wounds to flesh that she could see, that the doctor's could treat, and she couldn't help but see them when she looked at him. The damage reached into his very essence, and it was that that nearly made her weep.

She wanted him back, whole and healthy, cocky and annoying, self-assured and smiling and behaving like an asshole in a way that was unquestionably, irrevocably endearing. She wanted him back the way he was, vibrant and alive.

Dammit, when had he come to mean so much to her. When had he become so much part of her life that she didn't want to entertain the thought of never seeing him, never working with him again? She bit down hard on her lip and tasted the coppery tang of blood. She wasn't going to lose control.

She rested her hand for a moment on the only part of his arm that was free from needles and tubes, relishing in the warmth of the contact, grounding herself for a moment. "Hold on in there Tony," she said softly. "I need you back." The comment was heartfelt, sincere, but she couldn't leave it there, it wouldn't fit, not their normal relationship, and she so desperately wanted things to be 'normal' "You can't leave me to face Gibbs on my own."

'You're not alone, you've got McGee. You don't need me.' The reply might have been melancholy coming from anyone else, but it was quipped back with a slight pout as if from a sulky child, a look and tone that Tony had perfected as he stared back at her from across the bed. The image was so real in Kate's mind that she found herself replying, even as her mind acknowledged that Tony was not standing opposite, staring at her with twinkling green eyes; that he was lying in the bed; that she was replying to her imagination. "It wouldn't be the same," she stated to the fading image whose eyes twinkled in triumph at the admission. Her gaze dropped back to the real figure still lying on the bed. "It wouldn't be the same," She repeated softly.

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .


	33. Breaking Point

Author's note:- OK no excuses for the delay apart from a good old fashioned case of writer's block- I finally pushed through it and I hope you're not all disappointed with the results- Thanks as ever for your kind reviews- J

**Chapter 33: Breaking Point.**

Gibbs stared through the one way glass at Detective Sergeant Will Adams, mentally reigning in the revulsion and accompanying anger that just looking at him was enough to evoke. Adams was the embodiment of everything Gibbs hated. Far worse than the criminals that were at least honest enough to admit who they were, what they were. Adams had hid behind his badge and a respectability that he didn't deserve. It was why Gibbs had been an MP, why he probably would have ended up in internal affairs if he had joined the police instead of the military. There was no honour in being a thief but there was even less in betraying your uniform, your badge, your vow to serve. Bile tickled the back of his throat as he continued to watch and he swallowed it down. Uncomfortably aware that his animosity towards Adams wasn't limited to what he represented, to the hatred he normally felt for those who would kill or injure others. This ran far deeper, was almost at a level where he couldn't control it as it burned deep within him. He clenched his fists and then forced them to relax. Adams had made this personal, he had hurt Tony and that meant Gibbs would show no mercy, none at all.

It was almost as if Adams knew, almost as if he could sense what was coming, or maybe it was just the knowledge that his career was over, that he would likely spend the rest of his life in prison. Whatever, he was visibly falling apart, crumbling to pieces in front of Gibbs eyes, and Gibbs felt no compassion for him, he merely studied him, clinically, waiting. Waiting for the optimum moment to strike.

Adams was sweating, beads formed on his forehead, tear-drop shapes slowly increasing in size until their weight overcame the adhesion that kept them clinging precariously, and they slid down his cheek or dripped off an eyelash, making way for the next bead to form. He periodically rubbed his hands, gripping one with the other tightly, sliding it down across the fingers, squeezing them together, then repeating the action with his hands reversed, and again with the first hand and then. . . abruptly he would stop, as if suddenly noticing the tell-tale action. With effort he would drop his hands flat onto the table and glance to the side, with clear trepidation, at the still closed door. He would watch tensely for a few seconds before his eyes would defocus, and his gaze would slowly drift to the floor, his head turning back so he was once more sitting straight, and, when his mind was once again lost in its own dark thoughts, his hands would betray him by moving together, and the whole pattern would begin again.

Keeping him here in NCIS custody had taken some tricky manoeuvring on Gibbs' part. Only he and Fornell were privy to the fact that the FBI and NCIS were collaborating and not, as usual, vying for the jurisdiction on a high profile case. Moreover, Fornell was still unsure of his team, They had known there was a leak somewhere in law enforcement, someone was undermining their operation and Adams simply didn't have enough clearance to be the only fly in this particular batch of rotten ointment. Danvers, his undercover man, had gone in deep and with no backup apart from Fornell. This was on a strictly need to know basis and Fornell had a relatively new team, didn't know anyone on it enough to trust them, but he did trust Gibbs, and not just because Gibbs hadn't been aware of any of the information that had leaked. He trusted Gibbs because he knew how he thought, knew exactly under what circumstances Gibbs would betray him, and knew what his reasoning would be. He knew that whatever happened , however Gibbs portrayed himself, he was one of the good guys. He would do what was right, not always what was legal, definitely not what was politically expedient, but always what was right. Gibbs served justice, so knowledge of Danvers' existence was safe in his hands, but that's where it stopped, Fornell, Gibbs and Fornell's immediate superior at the Bureau, they were the only ones that knew.

They had decided between them that Gibbs had the most chance of getting Adams to give up what he knew, but that didn't mean they could just leave Gibbs to it. Gibbs had to fight every step of the way to avoid arousing suspicion. If the FBI did have a mole then he would go underground and cover his tracks at the slightest hint that anyone was suspicious. So they needed a careful play, needed to make him think he was safe, force his hand, and with a 100 million dollar payout still a possibility they had a good chance of doing just that.

Gibbs saw the shift, saw the slight shake of muscles, the drop of the head, the minuscule dip in the height of the shoulders that signalled defeat. It was time, without a word he held his hand out to McGee who dutifully passed him the file.

McGee, watched Gibbs exit before turning his attention back to the one way glass. He wasn't normally a vindictive person but even he was gaining a certain amount of satisfaction at watching Adams sweat. He and the other agents who had escorted Adams here had taken great delight in building Adams fear of Gibbs with their conversation.

"So this guy really hurt one of Gibbs' team?" Special Agent Molloy asked loud enough to be heard as he stared at Adams being loaded into the car.

"Not just anyone, he hurt Dinozzo," Agent Steiner had replied, also staring unsympathetically.

Molloy let out a soft whistle. "I wouldn't want to be in his shoes when he gets back to base." They both moved round and climbed into the front of the vehicle while McGee joined Adams in the back.

Steiner nodded. "I wouldn't want to have Gibbs pissed at me." He looked across at Molloy. "How many formal reprimands has he had now for his treatment of prisoners?"

"Five at the last count, and every time the director says the next one will be his last, but somehow there are never enough witnesses to make it stick."

"Strange how that happens."

"Well he knows how to avoid leaving any marks." Molloy put the car in drive and pulled out onto the woodland road.

"Is that from his marine training or from when he was running dark ops in Europe?"

Molloy took his eyes of the road long enough to fix Stiener with a stare. "Now, now Agent Steiner you of all people should know that we're not supposed to know about, let alone talk about the missing two years in Gibbs' jacket."

Steiner looked a little affronted "Hey I was just asking. ."

"Well don't." Molloy looked into the rear-view mirror and caught Adams staring at him, he gave a feral smile. "It's all classified for a reason."

Steiner nodded again. "I s'pose, but if what I've heard is true. . ." he turned to glance at Adams with a mixture of sympathy and revulsion. "Poor bastard," he muttered, barely audibly as he turned his head back.

The car drifted into an uncomfortable silence, Adams swallowed and turned to stare out of the window, uncomfortably aware that McGee was watching him, had been since they got into the car.

Eventually Adams turned to look at him. "It won't work you know," he stated with a bravado he definitely wasn't feeling.

"What won't?" McGee asked innocently.

"These guys," Adams nodded forward, "trying to scare me about what Gibbs is going to do to me." He paused to lick dry lips. "Me and my partner used to pull this sort of stunt with perps and snitches all the time. Trying to scare them into giving information."

"Oh they're not trying to scare you." McGee stated softly.

"They're not?" Adams asked suspiciously.

"No," McGee stated decisively as he allowed his gaze to settle forwards, allowing the pause in the unfinished answer to stretch. He waited until the uncomfortable shifting next to him reached the right level before turning back. "They don't need to," he stated. "Gibbs'll do that," and he turned away again barely suppressing the smirk at the expression on Adams' face.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs pushed the door open and Adams visibly jumped, his eyes slowly scanning upwards. Gibbs smiled down at him and Adams swallowed. There was something hard and dangerous about Gibbs that Adams would have noticed, even if his awareness hadn't been heightened a thousandfold by the long wait in an empty room, with nothing but his imagination and the seeds of fear for company.

There was a reason why isolation was the most feared of punishments, a reason why, if left for long enough, being alone could break the strongest of men. Gibbs also knew the best ways of shortening the length of time that took, of using a man's own personality against him. He smiled again as he took a seat. Staring Adams down, he was disappointed. The man would break far too easily. There would be no need for threats, no need to mess with the man's psyche. No need for it, at least not to get what he wanted, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do it anyway. He placed the file on the desk opening it carefully and reading its contents slowly.

"I want a lawyer," Adams stated, "I'm not saying anything until I've spoken to my lawyer you can't deny me that I asked those other agents. . ."

Gibbs looked up, his eyes hard and cold, they did not match the persistent slight smile. "We heard your request, you're not getting a lawyer until you've told me what I want to know."

Adams stared at him for a moment, the lawyer was his only lifeline, his only defence against what he refused to believe about Gibbs; this was a bluff, it had to be, as he'd told McGee he'd pulled similar stunts. . His mind was working rapidly, tripping over itself in haste. He looked up at the cameras. "This is being recorded," he stated, licking his bottom lip, "if you deny me a lawyer you'll never get a conviction, never even get me into court."

Gibbs turned and stared at the camera behind his left shoulder, gave it a small wave. "Technician called Winters runs the recording equipment." He turned back to face Adams. "Plays Poker with Dinozzo every Thursday night." He sat back in the chair. "In about an hour he's going to have a nasty accident with a cup of coffee. It'll fry all of today's recordings. Shame because he'll get an official reprimand for having a drink in there in the first place." Gibbs leaned forward. "Now what do you think could happen in an hour?"

NCISNCIS

"I need to talk to Gibbs," Abby said pushing her way into the observation room.

McGee turned to look at her but he did not give her his full attention, he was too fascinated by watching the way Gibbs worked, there was a mesmerising quality to the man, his personality filling the room and subjugating Adams with a seemingly effortless intensity. "Not much chance of that," he stated, turning back to the one way glass. "He's just started in on Adams."

"But this is important," Abby bounced on her toes with barely contained energy, the frustration showing in her tone sufficiently to draw his focus away from Gibbs

She had something, he recognised the look, the hint of excitement that bubbled off her. He glanced quickly back at Gibbs. No way was he going to risk interrupting, but equally he knew Abby could not wait. She might burst if she did. "What have you got?" he asked.

Abby allowed a flicker of disappointment to cross her features and her heels hit the floor as she lost her excitement, her sense of anticipation that she always got when she'd found something, but it was only momentary. McGee was still someone to tell, someone to share with. Not quite as good as Gibbs but he would do. Her heels lifted again, bouncing her pigtails on her shoulders. "I pulled two partial prints from the car in Tony's garage." She stopped, her eyes bright with excitement, waiting for the question she knew would come.

"And? . ." McGee did not disappoint.

"I have the names of two of the guys who beat on Tony."

NCISNCIS

"I don't care if they're FBI, NSA or the President's own special security team, Dinozzo is my patient!" Dr. Clarke stated angrily, he was almost shouting. "And nobody should be interfering with how I treat him."

Dr. Pashman bore the wrath of his subordinate well, knowing that it wasn't aimed at him and was fully justified in its vehemence. If what Dr Clarke was telling him was true, then the agents were not only interfering in patient care, but also risking changing the prognosis. He raised his hands placatingly. "Calm down, Andrew, I agree with you." The younger man settled a little before him, but he could see that it was with some effort. "I'll come down with you now and we'll sort this out."

Placated a little Dr. Clarke nodded and let out a long slow breath in an effort to calm himself. It had already been too long. There had been the time that had elapsed before he'd finally given up on the showdown between hospital security and the FBI agents who were denying him access to his patient, the half hour it had taken to find his boss, and several more minutes to explain the situation. It all meant that his patient was long overdue for both pain medication and the sedatives that he needed if he was going to recover. He couldn't believe that the agents were callous enough to risk his recovery, his very survival just because they needed to talk to him. Even if he was under arrest now, he had been one of their own, a fellow federal agent. He wasn't strong enough to wake up, not yet. He followed his boss resolutely down the corridor, hoping fervently that they weren't already too late.

NCISNCIS

Tony shifted on the bed and moaned softly as the drugs finally lost their hold on him and his eyes drifted languidly open. He blinked and tried to focus his eyes and his thoughts, but his vision and senses were blurred, fuzzy shapes, unformed fears and unfocussed pains assailed him and he tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry.

He shifted again trying to make some sense of his surroundings but the images would not form, the edges remained stubbornly undefined, and the pain stabbed at him. He tried to take a deep breath but even that was beyond him. He fought against the growing sense of panic, attempting to form some sort of coherent thought, but all that he could understand was the fear, and deep sense of loss that gripped him, and the panic grew. His breathing hitched up, and he fought even harder to draw in a deep breath as the pain in his chest spiralled out of control

He vaguely heard his name being called from beside him in a voice he did not recognise, snatched the odd word " tell. . .package. . . diamonds." but he could not properly understand let alone respond. The voice became more insistent and the pain grew along with the confusion as he tried once again to force himself to calm down, to think, to remember. What had happened to him? Why was there so much pain?

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	34. Oh No Not Again!

Author's note: Thankyou as ever for your continued patience and support- still tying up loose ends- well that's my excuse anyway. Hope you like it, as ever let me know. Every review is greatly appreciated-J

**Chapter 34 :- Oh No Not Again.**

Agent Steiner listened to the answer-phone message in frustration, hitting the disconnect as his arm swung down. He almost completed the action by throwing the cell down to the floor, almost, but he managed to control it, managed to swallow down the frustration. It was getting harder each time. "Gibbs is still not answering on either line," Steiner growled the words through clenched teeth, his eyes drawn back to the screen with the feed from Tony's room. It had been forty minutes now, forty minutes since the FBI agents had denied Dinozzo's doctor access to his patient. Forty minutes since they'd stopped the medication and Tony was waking up. Clearly in a lot of pain he was waking up.

Steiner's fist clenched. For the last forty minutes they had been trying unsuccessfully to contact Gibbs, to let him know what was going on, to get further instructions, to get permission to do something. The helplessness of this inactivity was grating on him and on his partner.

"Are you sure we can't contact someone else in his team?" Molloy asked

"You know what Gibbs said, report to him only."

"But. . ." the comment trailed off. The need to argue the point was there but it would be fruitless, and he knew Steiner was just as frustrated as he was.

Gibbs instructions had been clear and unequivocal. They were there to observe and report back to him. They were not to take any action without clearing it with him first, and at the moment they couldn't contact him, which meant they couldn't do anything but sit and watch and continue the frustrating attempts at contact. Steiner glanced up at the clock. It had been at least a minute since he'd last tried. He hit the speed dial again as his eyes drifted back to the screen. One of the FBI agents was leaning over now, attempting to question a barely conscious Dinozzzo. He fingered his weapon subconsciously, there had never been any love lost between the FBI and NCIS and right about now Steiner was at the point where he could happily shoot one of the two agents in the room without a second thought, but he wouldn't act without Gibbs OK, or at least not yet, but if these guys hurt Tony any more. . . the slightly tinny answer phone recording began again and Steiner growled.

NCISNCIS

Kate flashed her badge at the clerk behind the desk before holding up the photographs Abby had supplied. "Which room?" she asked without further preamble. There was no need, the credit card linked to one of the aliases of Niall Reeves, had been used within the last hour, and this was the sort of motel that only gave you a room if you paid in advance.

Reeves had been identified from the fingerprints on the car Tony had 'borrowed' from his kidnappers, they obviously hadn't been expecting trouble and had made no attempt to clean it out. He was a known player from the East Coast, a thug who only worked for the best families, and commanded the highest prices in a world where success meant rewards and a step up the ladder, and failure, well, failure was not an option. The second set of prints belonged to Jason Atkins, younger, arguably hungrier for success, and still working through his degree in thugery, both had a list of aliases, and outstanding warrants in at least two states.

The clerk looked for a moment like he might not co-operate, he glanced first at her and then at McGee. There was obviously something in their expressions that made him change his mind, or maybe it was that they both had their weapons clearly showing in their holsters. "Rooms," he replied, "they took two, 111 and 113, they've been here since Saturday, paid three days and then paid another two today."

"How many?" Kate asked.

"I can't be sure. . ."

"They've been here 3 days, be sure," Kate stated, her tone dangerous.

The clerk licked his lips and thought for a moment, clearly an activity that he wasn't used to. "Four, I think, two in each room."

"Good," Kate said smiling with all the friendliness of a lioness "Now all we need is a pass key, and for you to tell us where we can find rooms 111 and 113."

NCISNCIS

Tony tried hard to level out his breathing, to avoid spiralling down in a loop of pain and panic and despair. Urgent voices whispered to him, there was something they needed to know, something he needed to tell them, and so he fought, fought the pain, the urge to panic, the almost overwhelming sense of dread. Somebody needed him and that was what Anthony Dinozzo lived for, the only thing that stopped his psyche from imploding was the belief that he could help others, that somehow they needed his help.

Fragments of memory drifted just out of reach and for the moment he let them drift by. He needed to calm down, to control the pain, then he would be able to help them, to tell them what they needed to know. He concentrated on the next breath, breathing through the pain. He could do this.

Vaguely he became aware of a shift in atmosphere in the room around him, the urgent questions had been replaced by more distant raised voices, the sounds of an argument. He tried to focus on the words but it was taking too much of his concentration away from his breathing and, at a hitch in the pain levels, he allowed his hearing to drift again, and concentrated once more on drawing the next steady breath, the sounds fading back to angry tones and colours, drifting on the edge of his consciousness.

NCISNCIS

Kate and McGee took point either side of the door to room 111, two more agents took similar positions outside room 113 with the rest of their backup covering all other possible exits. They were taking no chances with known killers that had beaten Tony to a pulp, and were most certainly armed and dangerous. That's if they were inside, the clerk hadn't been sure, not that he'd been sure of anything.

It was McGee who took the lead knocking hard several times. "NCIS open up." There was no response. He tried once more before the two doors were simultaneously rammed down and the teams went in. They quickly swept the small rooms and the bathrooms, confirming that both were clear.

Disappointed, McGee swallowed down the adrenaline fuelled tension, and turned to Kate. He pulled out his cell. "I'll let Gibbs know," he stated, that was assuming Gibbs was out of interrogation.

Kate nodded moving across to the table to start her search.

McGee frowned when all he got was Gibbs' voicemail. He was just about to inform Kate when she swore softly, something he definitely wasn't used to from his colleague. "What is it?" he asked moving hurriedly to join her.

"Plans and security schedules for Bethesda, including MP rosters," Kate shuffled through the papers on the desk, "layouts timings, and," she held up a sheet, "details of Tony's latest admission."

"You're kidding, they can't be targeting Bethesda, it's a military hospital the security. . ."

"Already let Tony get out of there once this week, and these guys are playing for high stakes, one hundred million dollars in uncut diamonds. . ."

McGee started hitting keys on his cell. "I think we've finally found a good enough reason to interrupt Gibbs' interrogation . ."

NCISNCIS

Dr. Pashman wasn't sure where the MPs had appeared from, since he hadn't actually requested their presence, at least not yet. If he'd had to explain it he would have said that Dr Clarke had called them in, but the truth was he didn't really question what they were doing there, he was just grateful they were. Nor did he consider too closely their appearance, or question if he had ever seen them before. Military rotations were regular enough that you got used to personnel changing on what sometimes seemed like a monthly basis, but, in reality, was usually longer than that.

Dr Clarke did not question their presence either, since he assumed that Dr. Pashman had summoned them, by the time either of them realised that there was something wrong it was far too late.

The showdown with the FBI agents was short and far from sweet.

"You have no jurisdiction here," Dr. Pashman stated authoritatively, "beyond what we allow, and you have no say whatsoever in the medical care of this man." He pointed at Tony. "Now, either you allow Dr. Clarke to treat his patient, or I will make sure that not only are you dismissed from the FBI, but that you are bought up on criminal charges, and," he turned to look at the MPs behind him. "I'm sure that my colleagues here would have no qualms about placing you under arrest and we can let your director fight out the resulting scandal with the Secnav. The choice, gentlemen, is yours."

FBI agent Randal Price looked across at his fellow agent and with a slight nod capitulated, but not without an attempt to justify his actions first. "Look that guy is complicit in at least two homicides and the smuggling of a small fortune into this country. He's a traitor to his badge and doesn't deserve our sympathy. We were simply trying to bring a speedy resolve to a case that is costing the taxpayer thousands. He has valuable information and you," he jabbed a finger, "won't let him wake up to talk to us."

Dr. Pashman wasn't impressed. "That's because letting him wake up could just kill him. So, unless you want that on your conscience, not to mention the charges I could bring if that happens as a result of your actions, I suggest you and your fellow agent leave now, as it is I will be sending a full report to both my superiors and yours."

With a final shrug Price gave up, "Come on Soames, We need to report to Fornell anyway," he said, and, pushing past both doctors, he left the room, Soames in tow.

Dr Clarke also pushed past Dr. Pashman, but more from desire than from disdain, he had a patient that he needed to check on. "At last," he said, moving to Tony's side and examining the monitors. He turned to the male nurse that had accompanied the MPs "OK I'll need 10 mg of morphine. . ." He broke off as he saw the gun levelled at his chest. "What. . . ?" A soft whumping sound from behind made him turn, his eyes wide, mouth still open in shock, and for several moments the reality of what he was seeing didn't register. One of the MPs held a silenced weapon which gave another dull whump and then another as Dr. Pashman's body jerked with the impact and he dropped to the floor, lifeless eyes still staring in shock. There were three red stains, all grouped over his heart.

"Dr. Clarke."

The doctor slowly turned to face the male 'nurse,' and he tried to get his mouth to move, tried to ask the questions that were spiralling through his head. "I. . .Why? Who?. . ."

"The only reason you are still alive doctor is because we need your help. We need agent Dinozzo here to answer our questions and you're going to help keep him awake and alive while he does. So," he gestured towards the bed with the barrel of his gun. "If you'd care to remove all these tubes and wires so we can move him."

Dr Clarke looked down at his patient, at the pale features, already drawn once more in pain, his breathing strained and uneven, and he shook his head, his thoughts barely coherent enough to form an answer. "I can't, he needs. . .he can't be moved it. . ." he looked up again, "it'll kill him."

Reeves lowered his gun a little and shifted one hand down. "Of course, if you'd prefer, I could just rip them out."

Dr Clarke moved his hand automatically to prevent the action. "No, no," he replied hurriedly, no doubt in his mind from the brutality he'd already seen that the man, who was clearly no nurse, would carry out his threat. "I'll. . . I'll do it," and with hands shaking from fear, adrenaline and shock, he began the task.

NCISNCIS

Steiner and Molloy watched in relief as the FBI agents were given their marching orders and Steiner finally lowered his cell, his shoulders dropping as tensed muscles relaxed a little. "Finally," he stated allowing the relief to show in his tone. Dinozzo would be okay now, the medical staff seemed back in control, "but I wouldn't like to be either of those FBI agents after Gibbs reads my report."

Molloy nodded his agreement. "We still need to let him know. . . .What the. . .?" He moved quickly to the surveillance equipment and began to run checks in response to the static noise that replaced the previously clear images on the screen. It only took him a moment to trace the problem. "The signal's being jammed."

Steiner was moving for the door, his gun drawn before Molloy had finished his appraisal. To hell with his watch and wait brief, something was wrong, he was barely though the door when Molloy followed.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs rarely miscalculated, in fact he had a reputation for always being right, for having the uncanny knack of being in the right place at exactly the right time. So somehow it always hit harder when he dropped the ball, misjudged a situation. He'd known they'd come for Tony, to help Fornell out he'd even counted on it, using Tony as the bait in an elaborate trap, but neither of them had expected them to hit so hard, so fast and with such recklessness. He hadn't followed his own rules, 'Never assume. . . ,' 'always be prepared for anything,' but it wasn't him who was going to pay the price for this failure. It was Tony.

His eyes narrowed into a deep frown as he once again found himself standing in a hospital room, staring at a bed that his agent should be recovering safely in, an empty bed, with trailing wires and tubes.

What an unmitigated mess! Dr. Pashman was dead, three MPs had been found drugged and unconscious, one of them was still critical from an overdose of the tranquillizer that had been used to subdue him, the repercussions on this one would go all the way to the top, and yet the only part that Gibbs could focus on was Tony

The room was full of people, McGee, Kate, Molloy, Steiner, even Fornell was there, but Gibbs felt like he was completely isolated, in a bubble of emotion that buffered against interaction with the outside world, as anger, fear, self-recrimination and guilt all fought for supremacy in a negative spiral that threatened to overwhelm him.

Dammit, they'd had him and he had been safe and. . . He looked up and finally connected with reality again as his gaze caught Kate's. She was barely controlling her own emotions, tears just bubbling on the edge of forming. It gave him both the kick start and the strength he needed. If Tony was missing again they would just have to find him again.

NCISNCIS

Tony was struggling, in a world somewhere between dream and reality, between memories and the present, he drifted in a sea of pain, the stimulants Dr. Clarke had been forced to give him, preventing him from drifting back into the cocoon of unconsciousness that his body and mind so desperately craved.

Dr. Clarke had been given no choice, but he still felt like he was betraying his Hippocratic oath, how could he claim he was doing no harm and still look at the man who was being forced to endure this waking hell. The alternative was worse, he would be shot, and they would resort to further beatings until Tony told them what they wanted to know or died. That would have been worse for his patient, that was why he agreed to help them, and only that. Nothing to do with self-preservation, and that was the cruel psychological trap that would haunt his dreams, because he would never know for sure how pure his motivations had been. He had done as they had asked, and looking at the fear and pain in Tony's eyes, whatever else he told himself, he knew that he had done harm.

"The package you put in the post," Hamilton asked, "Who did you send it to?"

Tony looked up, his thoughts becoming suddenly lucid as memories of the last forty eight hours slammed into place, the strange phrasing, 'post,' not 'mail', the accent. This was the same man who had beaten him, tortured him for answers before. Somehow they had him again. They had nearly killed him last time, and they were back to finish the job. Tony looked into the man's eyes and smiled, not sure that he cared any more if they did. "Go to hell," he stated evenly and winced as the sharp pain of a blow drew his breath, and his world drifted again into an obscurity of new and remembered pains.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	35. Bravery

Author's note: I'm trying to write quicker, really I am, I hope you enjoy, as ever let me know. J

**Chapter 35:- Bravery.**

Dr. Clarke moved almost subconsciously. "No!" The exclamation left his lips, and he pushed his way forwards, with no thought now for his own safety, as he literally elbowed a killer out of the way.

Hamilton stepped back, more from surprise than from any force in the push, as the doctor moved between him and his victim. Reeves and Atkins continued to hold on to Tony, their grip being used more to hold him up than restrain him, as he attempted to curl around his abused abdomen.

Dr Clarke took a deep swallow, staring Hamilton down. Seeing another blow strike Tony had simply been too much. Tony's chances of surviving this were already low, another beating would see that drop to non- existent, and he could not just stand and watch them murder Tony in front of him. He had worked too damned hard to save him already, and there was still a chance, still hope, if these bastards would just leave him alone.

The doctor's unexpected bravery had everyone's attention; he had seemed too shocked, and way too out of his depth to offer any real resistance, and so far he had been suitably compliant. They hadn't exactly ignored his presence, just treated him with a tolerant indifference. He had been a necessary tool to assist them in achieving their goal, and he had played that role so well they had almost forgotten that he was their prisoner, their adversary. His outburst changed that, and the tension in the air notched up, sparking slightly as everyone tensed

"Stop," Dr Clarke continued, ignoring the uncomfortable oppressiveness that the very air around him now took on. He swallowed down the fear. "You have to stop," he stated forcefully. "He won't survive any more blows, and he can't answer your questions if he's dead."

Hamilton studied him, like he was sizing up a particularly annoying fly. "That's why you're here doc," he said calmly, "To see that he doesn't die," he paused moving towards the doctor with a step that was barely an inch, but it was enough to increase the impact of the following threat, "or we will kill you."

Dr. Clarke, almost balked, intimidated, the fear making his skin crawl. Heat radiated up, making his collar seem tighter, the air thicker, even more oppressive, and every instinct screamed at him to apologise and back down, but he just couldn't do it, his patient needed him. He glanced back at Tony and allowed the anger and revulsion at his treatment to take hold, using the emotion to bolster his failing nerve. He took his own half step forward "And I'm telling you it doesn't matter what you threaten me with. Hit him again, even once more, and the chances are he'll drop into a coma that he'll never wake up from, and there won't be a damn thing I can do about it." He paused to take a breath. "I'm just a doctor not a miracle worker."

Hamilton stared for a moment. He'd figured at the hospital that the doctor was just exaggerating when he'd said moving Dinozzo would kill him, a calculated statement to prevent them from taking him, but looking at the reaction now. . . He glanced past the doctor to the figure still writhing in pain from the blow he had delivered, maybe the medic was telling the truth.

Underneath his bravado he could see, no, he could smell the fear. The man was terrified, and with good reason, whatever happened he was going to die. Even so, he didn't seem the sort to put up much of a fight. Hamilton knew; he had killed enough to know. If the doctor was this concerned, concerned enough to make a stand. . . . He nodded. "OK, we'll lay off for a while. I'll give you twenty minutes to persuade your patient that it's in his best interests to tell me what I want to know," he paused gauging the reaction, waiting for just the right moment to deliver the threat. "After that, well, I just want you to remember that if he dies, you die."

NCISNCIS

Gibbs didn't wait for Abby to fully turn. "Abby tell me ya got something."

"Oh yes," Abby replied, forlornly, barely dragging her eyes up from the microscope. "I got plenty," she moved over to the desk at the side of the lab, picking up a tray of vials. "I've got hair samples and skin samples," she slammed the plastic tray heavily down again, "giving me several good samples of DNA." She moved again to press a key on the computer, which caused a scrolling image to appear on the plasma. "I got fingerprints which I've matched through AFIS, and records that I've pulled from the FBI database." She hit another set of keys far too heavily, clearly agitated, tears glistened in both eyes, the words fell rapidly from her lips. "Giving me a variety of aliases, I've pulled rap sheets and records on all four suspects. I can tell you about their childhoods, their reasons for becoming criminals, the last time they were arrested, their outstanding warrants. . ." She stepped now to the evidence table, which contained piles of documents in ziplock evidence bags. She picked one up. "And I have paperwork for everything they've done since they arrived in LA, including their plans to kidnap Tony from Bethesda. I can even tell you that they ate breakfast at Denny's this morning, and what they had," she paused, drawing in a deep breath. "But. . ." she paused again, fighting for emotional control. "I have nothing that tells me where they've taken Tony, nothing that will help you find him." Her arm swept the remaining plastic wrapped papers to the floor. "I'm sorry Gibbs but I don't. . ."

She didn't get to finish the sentence, didn't get to drop into the despairing well that would have allowed the tears to fall more freely, although they had already begun to fall. Gibbs took her into his arms and wrapped her in a comforting embrace. "It's OK Abs," he stated softly, cradling the back of her head with one hand as he attempted not to give in to the same emotions of despair and lost hope. He couldn't do that. Abby needed him.

He had come here as a last hope, at the moment they had no leads, nothing that would tell them where Tony had been taken. They had the motel staked out, but they hadn't been back there, hadn't been within ten blocks of it in any direction, Gibbs was sure of that. Nor was there anything to indicate another destination.

Nothing, they had nothing, and Abby's frustration merely mirrored his own. Tony was already living on borrowed time, even if they left him alone, and that was unlikely. Gibbs squeezed Abby a little tighter, not sure if it was for her comfort or for his. "You can only do your best Abs, Tony knows that." He dropped a gentle ghost of a kiss in her hair. "All you can do is follow the evidence."

Abby pulled back a little, just enough so that she could look him in the eye. "But what if the evidence isn't enough? What if it can't help us find him until it's too late?"

"Then it's not your fault," Gibbs stated softly, using his thumb to wipe the latest tear gently from her cheek.

"So why does it feel like it is?" Abby asked.

NCISNCIS

Dr. Clarke stood motionless for a moment, not quite believing what had just happened from any perspective. He couldn't believe that he had stood up to these men, men he had watched kill a colleague in cold blood, nor could he believe that he had been successful. It was only Hamilton turning to walk away that brought him out of the momentary daze. He looked round at the other thugs, at a nod from Hamilton they had dropped Tony, none too gently, onto a tattered old mattress on the floor, and now they had turned their attention back to him, the uncomfortable scrutiny keeping the heavy oppressiveness in the air.

Overwhelming fear threatened again, and he swallowed it back, dropping his gaze to look for the medical bag that had been stolen for his use, fortunately whoever owned it kept it well stocked. He grabbed it and moved to Tony's side, attempting to quell his fear through action. He tried hard to ignore the shake of his hand as he pulled out the blood pressure cuff.

Tony was lying on his side, the pain forcing him to draw up his knees and curl his shoulders in the hope of finding some relief. His breath came in short shallow pants, and sweat soaked his face and hair. Dr. Clarke shifted his position, gently rolling Tony onto his back and uncurling him. He needed access to his good arm, the one he was lying on, besides, he knew that however instinctive the action, it wouldn't alleviate the pain.

"Tony?" he questioned as he fitted the blood pressure cuff. "Tony, if you can hear me I need you to try to relax." He almost laughed at himself, almost told himself not to be so stupid, the guy had been shot, beaten, stabbed, kidnapped, and he was asking him to relax? But however stupid it sounded, however impossible it might be, that was what he needed him to do. The tension in Tony's muscles was undoubtedly making the pain worse, his shallow breathing triggering a panic response that would only worsen his condition. Normally the doctor would have used muscle relaxants, painkillers to make him more comfortable, to alleviate the symptoms, but in Tony's weakened condition they would knock him out, and, much as he would have liked to, Dr. Clarke couldn't afford to do that. So, he tried again, "Tony?"

Tony tried hard to follow the advice, tried hard to level out his breathing, to relax his muscles against the overwhelming tension, but every half formed thought, every flash of memory, every image, stabbed with pain and despair, betrayal and guilt. They increased his anxiety, fed the fear and the tension, and he didn't have the will or the strength to fight any more, "Tony?" The voice spoke again, and his thinking was just clear enough to register the tone, concern? Fear? He forced himself to respond, opening his eyes he struggled to focus blurry images and fuzzy thoughts. His mind recognised the sensation of the blood pressure cuff tightening around his arm, incongruous with his surroundings, the cavernous white room, the peeling paint, the filthy mattress. He was back in the warehouse, where they 'd nearly killed him the first time, where they were going to finish the job, only this time he wasn't alone, they'd brought the doctor, and they would kill him too. Tony knew that, when his mind was clear enough to focus, and it was clearing now, he knew that. Knew that it was his fault, just one more thing that he had to feel guilty about, in a psyche that was already so overloaded with emotional pain that the weight was crushing it beyond the point of response.

He glanced round at the thugs, three of them watching him, and then back at the doctor who was frowning as he checked the gauge from the cuff. "Doc?" He questioned weakly.

Doctor Clarke allowed himself a small outlet of breath in relief, as Tony spoke to him, his eyes seemed clear and there was definite recognition. His blood pressure was too damned low, but at least he hadn't dropped into unconsciousness, and his breathing had settled a little. He forced a small smile. "Good to have you back with us Tony," but it wasn't, the lines of exhaustion and pain were testament to that, Tony shouldn't be awake, shouldn't be feeling any of this, there should have been time for that later, as he recovered. The doctor pushed the thoughts down; they weren't helping. He had continued to work as he spoke, the normality of the actions helping him to focus. He placed the temperature probe in Tony's ear and gave it time to respond. "Your fever's down a little, that's good," he stated, hiding behind his professional persona because it was the only way he could control the bone crushing fear for himself and for his patient. "But I'm going to give you another shot of antibiotics anyway along with a mild analgaesic," he paused and caught Tony's gaze. "I'm sorry I can't give you anything stronger for the pain but. . ." he looked away regretfully.

"S'alright doc," Tony half slurred the words. He almost told the doctor not to bother with the antibiotics, he wouldn't be alive long enough for them to have an effect, but he recognised the man's need to keep busy, to repeat normal routines even through the completely abnormal. He watched the doctor work, watched him prepare the injection but turned away as he went to administer it. He gave a slight chuckle as he felt the sharp prick.

Dr. Clarke found it difficult to place the sound at first, confused even as he recognised the light laughter. "What's funny?"

Tony turned to look at him again, then glanced down at his bandaged arm and back up. "I watched her plunge a knife into my arm, didn't flinch," he stated, matter-of-factly. His grin broadened, "but I can't watch you give me a little injection." His expression became a little wistful. "Kate would find that amusing." His mood darkened. Kate, who had come to rescue him despite everything he'd done, who'd risked her life. . . he could see Julie with his gun aimed at her head, ready to kill her because of him, because. . . .

"Tony?"

Tony looked up his eyes refocusing on the doctor, still there, still concerned, still scared. "Sorry doc," he stated quietly, and looked around. Reeves and Atkins had wondered off to the opposite side of the room where they were talking quietly, leaving the third thug to watch them, he stood about ten feet away nervously tapping his hand on his leg. Tony looked back at Dr. Clarke, damn he had to do something to help him get out of here. If only he could remain focussed, if only he could. . .

"Why don't you tell them what they want to know?" Dr. Clarke asked, sparing a glance himself for the men guarding them.

Tony met his gaze. "Because they're going to kill me anyway," he stated, no emotion behind the statement. He'd already accepted that he was going to die, accepted it, deserved it. If there was any emotion there at all it was surprise that he'd survived this long. He drew in a breath. "Because if I send them to the person who really has the package they'll kill them too." He shifted a little against the discomfort. "These people don't leave loose ends." He looked around again. "That's why we've got to get you out of here."

Dr. Clarke stared for a moment, he had seen lots of brave men in his time, working in a military hospital it was a given that you would. He'd even heard stories about their actions, from their comrades, their friends, their families, but he'd never actually witnessed it before. Overwhelming odds, emotionally battered, badly injured, and the man in front of him was still trying to find a way out, and not for himself. He fought back stinging tears. "You're in no condition to do anything. . ."

"Listen Doc," Tony interrupted, keeping his voice low. "When they come back," he shifted slightly closer to the doctor, leaning on his good arm, "when they start in on me again, I'll create some sort of distraction, their focus will be on me. You should be able to make a run for it, and I'll keep their attention for as long as I can. If you back off slowly until I make my move they shouldn't notice." He studied the doctor's face. "Of course once you start running, don't stop, no matter what you hear, just keep running."

"But they'll kill you."

Tony ignored the statement. "Just keep running," he repeated.

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .


	36. Denouement

Author's note: before I let you read this last chapter, I'd just like to thank everyone for their patience and support. I started writing this when Kate was still alive and Morrow was NCIS director and a lot has changed since then. Thank you to everyone who has read this, thank you to everyone who has supported me with reviews and e-mails. Every one is treasured. I hope that the ending doesn't disappoint. Let me know what you think- J

**Chapter 36: Dénouement**

"Promise me that whatever happens you'll," Tony broke off to cough weakly, "keep running," he completed, and coughed again, this time a little harsher. His hand tightened its grip around the doctors' arm, as Dr. Clarke leaned forward to steady him.

Dr. Clarke looked up at their captors pleadingly. "He needs some water," he stated. Tony's grip tightened as he coughed again, and the increase in pressure made the doctor look back at him, watching the struggle for breath with increasing concern.

He looked up again, feeling the growing anger once more bolstering his nerve. "Look, if your boss wants me to keep him alive and coherent enough to give you answers, then he needs some water." He kept his voice even, trying to make it seem like more of a demand than a request, recognising that these were people who responded to strength, not weakness or compassion, but he couldn't help the slightly desperate "please," that tagged itself onto the edge of his request as Tony coughed again.

The three remaining thugs looked at each other, then at Tony who was still trying to control the painful cough. Finally one of them spoke.

"You two go and get some from the car, I'll watch them."

Reeves and Atkins shared a look. "You know what Hamilton said, none of us are to be on their own, break that rule on pain of death." Reeves stated.

Hamilton had them all scared, they'd watched him shoot a friend, a man he had worked with on and off for ten years. He'd shot him through the head, without blinking, because he'd let Tony escape. They weren't about to do anything that would anger the man, and, if anything, as time passed, he'd become more paranoid, convinced that one of them was a traitor. He trusted no one. He'd banned them from going anywhere, even to the bathroom, alone. They'd eaten, slept and even washed for the last two days always within sight of each other.

"I'll take my chances. There's only one exit in and out of the building and you'll have that covered, besides," he looked across at Tony. "I think the doc's right. If we don't get him some water then he's not going to survive for any more questioning, and Hamilton'll have our asses anyway." He paused, switching his tone to a slightly more persuasive one. "And if you two stay together it'll only be me breaking the rules."

Tony coughed a little more, curling in on himself now as the violent spasms sent further shockwaves of pain through his abused body.

Reeves and Atkins stared at each other for a moment in silent communication. It was Atkins who turned and spoke for them. "OK, we'll go. If Hamilton comes back. . ."

"I'll be sure to let them know it was my idea."

The two men nodded and hurried from the room. The third man watched them go, his pose remaining relaxed until they were out of sight, and then his demeanour shifted. All of his muscles seemed to tense as he moved forwards, covering the distance between himself and the two captives in long rapid strides. He dropped to his knees and retrieved a small water bottle from the inside pocket of his coat, passing it to Dr. Clarke, as he placed his gun on the ground with his other hand. "Here," he said indicating that it should be given to Tony.

The doctor accepted the bottle somewhat bewildered by their erstwhile guard and captor's actions, but he got his priorities right, holding Tony's head so that he could drink some of the water and settle his dry throat.

"Thanks," Tony mumbled, still not fully coherent as he tried to deal with the cacophony of pains that resonated through his system.

Dr. Clarke finally focussed back on the guard who was helping them. "I don't understand, you sent the other two for water and. . . "

"Mike Danvers FBI," Danvers introduced himself, "I've been waiting for my opportunity to make a move. I'm just sorry I couldn't do anything sooner, but Hamilton is a psychopath. This is the first time he's let us out of his sight for two days." He looked Dr. Clarke in the eye. "I'm sorry for. . .at the hospital. . .your colleague. . ."

"Dr. Pashman," Dr Clarke filled in.

"Dr. Pashman," Danvers repeated regretfully, "I had no idea they were going to do that, the plan was to knock people out, not kill them. If I'd known I would have made my move sooner but. . ." he looked down at Tony, who was now watching him. "I was hoping for an opportunity, for a chance before we got you out of the hospital, but there was always too much risk, too much chance that someone innocent would. . . and then. . ." He glanced away, clearly struggling to deal with what had happened. "I'm sorry," he said, as he met Tony's gaze again, the regret sincere. However little choice he'd had, he'd been part of a murder, and part of kidnapping and half killing the man he now stared at, and he truly regretted that, but he knew that he did not have time for this, not if he had any hope of putting some of that right, of saving these two men. He broke his gaze to glance at the doctor and back again. "Look, we don't have long. Once Hamilton gets back he will kill both of you."

"So what's the plan?" Tony asked, taking a cautious breath and swallowing, willing his throat to settle.

Danvers was impressed as he met Tony's gaze, if the positions had been reversed he was sure he would have reacted with emotion, anger, at finding one of the people who had kidnapped and beaten him was a fellow agent. Sure that at least he would have had more questions, been less willing to just accept, but Tony was doing exactly what he needed him to do if they were to stand any chance of getting out of this. Danvers pointed with the end of his weapon towards a doorway. "That leads to a corridor with offices at the end. The old fashioned sort, used to have a window half the height of the corridor although the glass is missing now, so all that is left is a low wall with a good view down the only corridor and to the only door. I stashed a bag down there with a spare gun and four clips, last time we were here." He looked around, then back at Tony, "There's no way you can move quickly enough for us to get out of here, but if you can hold them off for twenty minutes, half an hour tops I'll be back with the cavalry."

Tony nodded, "Let's get moving," he said, doing his best to raise both of his arms so that Danvers and Dr. Clarke could help him up from the floor. He was getting to the point that the only effect that the pain was really having was an eroding weariness. So much pain was so. . . tiring. What he most wanted to do was curl up in a ball on the floor and sleep, and if he'd been alone he might have gone for that option, even though it meant he probably wouldn't be waking up again. He really didn't have much to wake up for. . . but he didn't rate the doctor's chances of holding off armed killers. So he had to hang on, just a little bit longer, had to try to save the man who'd tried to save him. He blinked the world back into focus, shifting his weight so that he was being supported solely by the doctor. He pushed Danvers away. "Go," he said.

"I need to help you down there," Danvers protested, "Show you. . ."

"No," Tony stated firmly. "You go now, we'll either make it or we won't, but you hanging around to help us will just get us all killed."

Danvers nodded. "Good luck," he said.

"You too," Tony agreed, "Come on Doc," he turned back to the direction Danver's had pointed. "We need to get moving."

Dr. Clarke marvelled once more at Tony's resilience. True he was supporting most of Tony's weight but the fact that he was on his feet at all was a testament to his strength of will. They moved off together. Dr. Clarke didn't draw a full breath until they were through the door, and out of the direct line of sight of most of the room they had left behind.

Tony only looked up once, when they entered the corridor. He gave a slight grimace at the distance he still had to cover, fifty feet in his condition was like being at the start of a marathon. Then he put his head down and concentrated on reaching his destination. Danvers was right; this corridor was easily defensible. Even with superior firepower no one was getting down it as long as the person at the other end had ammunition. Their only worry now was making it to the end themselves before their captors got back. It was a perfect killing ground both ways, but Tony couldn't afford to allow that thought to intrude. There were too many others crowding in, ready to distract, ready to destroy, each a memory of physical or emotional pain. Each step, already painful, was punctuated by a memory

Remembering to take a breath when he had first seen Julie after so many years. Trying to ride through the waves of pain as he had the crap beaten out of him. Fighting the temptation to confess all to Gibbs. Finding the evidence of Julie's betrayal, the death of a friend, killing her. . . . killing her. . . Fighting not to die, without truly understanding why he even wanted to go on living, waking in this warehouse again, same men ready to beat him again, the fear. . .

His vision tunnelled only to his destination, his hearing narrowed to only his own harsh breaths, and the roaring of blood through his veins. There was nothing else. He did not exist in the world, only in the next step forward and the last haunting memory. He could allow nothing more because he was already beyond physical and emotional overload, and the only reason he didn't fall over was because he didn't have it in him to give up. He had let Gibbs down in every other way possible. He would not add the final betrayal and be the protégé who just gave up. If he was going to die here then he would, but he'd be damned if he'd let these bastards kill him and the doctor without a fight, Gibbs wouldn't, and he couldn't either. He owed his mentor at least that. He owed him a lot more.

They made it to the low wall of the office and moved inside. Tony scanned the area, trying to focus clearly enough to remember what he was looking for, but his breathing was too laboured, his body demanding oxygen, his injured chest and compromised lungs struggling to satisfy the need. He closed his eyes and concentrated on just that, in, out, in, out, slow and easy.

When he opened his eyes again he was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the low wall and Dr. Clarke was staring worriedly at him, clasping a canvas bag in one hand and a gun in the other. Tony met his gaze. "Can you fire that?" he asked.

Dr. Clarke swallowed nervously. "Kind of goes against the Hippocratic oath. You know, 'first do no harm.'"

Tony nodded and took the gun from him, ignoring the pain in his arm as he expertly released and checked the clip and then the chamber. "This is how you release the clip," he demonstrated, "and reload." He looked up from the gun and met the doctors' gaze again. "I'll hold them off as long as I can, but if I. . . If I can't then you need to keep them from coming down that corridor." He paused for a moment. "If the FBI are involved Gibbs will already know. He'll come." The statement was made with absolute certainty. "You don't have to shoot anyone, just, if you have to, aim at the walls, only shoot when they make a move, we don't have much ammo. . ."

"Maybe I should just take the gun now?" Dr. Clarke suggested, "I'm sure I can. . ."

"No," Tony interrupted, knowing it was only a half-hearted offer. He still needed to convince the man in front of him that if it came to it he would have to fire the weapon. It would be his only chance of survival. Tony didn't rate much for his own chances with or without it, but the doctor should make it out of this alive.

Did he understand that firing that gun might be his only hope?

"No need for you to betray your Hippocratic oath unless you have to," Tony managed the ghost of a smile. He knew that at least the first few rounds fired would have to be on target if they were to have any hope of deterring career assassins like Hamilton. "I just need to know that if it comes to it, you'll ignore what's happening to me and use this." He gave a slight wave with the gun. "Because if they make it down that corridor, we're both dead anyway." Tony held Dr. Clarke's gaze, the intensity of the look conveying much more than words ever could. If he didn't do this then they would both die here, Tony fully expected to die anyway.

"I understand," Dr. Clarke stated

Tony nodded, finally satisfied that the man did understand the stakes. He drew in as deep a breath as he could manage, steeling himself against the next onslaught of pain as he prepared to give the last of what his body and soul had to offer. He was weak beyond any measurable scale, emotionally in tatters, and only strength of will was keeping him conscious and moving in any coherent fashion, but he knew that he had to keep going, knew that his final act in this life should count for something. Something that could maybe counter his betrayal, could maybe make up for the bad decisions that had brought him here, and cost lives, maybe. . .

"Help me get in position?" he asked, raising his hand for help.

NCISNCIS

"Shots fired, second floor." The communication rang unnecessarily through the headsets. They had all heard the tell tale signs of weapons fire.

Gibbs swore softly, he had hoped for a little more time, a little more Intel on what was going on inside the building. "Go, go, go," he ordered. "All teams you have a go." He was running now, gun drawn, heading for the entrance to the familiar warehouse. At least he had been inside before, knew the layout. That should give them some advantage. Most of Fornell's team had been here before as well. Still that knowledge didn't help the tightening of his gut. Weapons fire before an assault started never boded well. Not for the people on the inside, and Tony was inside, he was certain of that.

It had been McGee who'd found the vital link, based on Abby's identification of the men involved and the extensive files she'd retrieved from Interpol.

"There were two cases in England," McGee stated, pulling up the case file on the plasma in Abby's lab, "where bodies were discovered. In both cases Hamilton was suspected. One was a warehouse in London's Docklands, one at a railway sidings in a place called Crewe." The pictures on the screen flashed two nondescript large buildings photographed below a gray sky.

"And this helps us how?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

McGee turned from the keyboard. "In both cases the buildings were sealed and left after the forensic teams had taken a look at them, and in both cases there is evidence that Hamilton went back and used the buildings again, on the assumption that that was the last place the police would be looking for them."

Gibbs was already moving for the door, his cell out to call for an NCIS assault team and then Fornell, this was one operation he wasn't going to mind collaboration on, the more teams the better as far as he was concerned.

McGee's ability to follow him was delayed slightly by Abby cupping her hand round either cheek and pulling him into a full kiss. She pulled back leaving him slightly stunned by the intensity.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked when he didn't immediately move. "Go rescue Tony," and she gave him a confident smile as though it was now a foregone conclusion, instead of a long shot, that they would get their friend and fellow agent back alive.

NCISNCIS

Tony waited, drew in another breath, counted slowly. They were coming and he had to stop them, but he needed them far enough down the corridor for his shots to count, but not far enough for them to risk anything reckless. He squeezed his eyes shut drew in a breath then exhaled as he moved. Up, aim fire, once, twice, turn, re-aim, fire again, another two swift pulls of the trigger, then back to the first target, aim. . . Pain was exploding through his system, muscles screaming at the abuse, he ignored it, he was getting used to ignoring it, but the kicks of adrenaline were no longer enough. His brain told his finger to squeeze the trigger and the shot went wild as he collapsed backwards unconscious.

NCISNCIS

The first resistance was just through the entryway. Gibbs and Kate took either side, McGee behind Kate and several other suited NCIS agents took position behind them. Gibbs risked a look in and was met by automatic weapons fire. He threw himself back as the bullets shattered the frame where his head was, and tore into the concrete behind him. He looked across at Kate, her stance ready to move, but he shook his head just slightly. Going in this way was suicide. He spoke into the headset "This is team one, we're pinned at the main door, one shooter, automatic weapon."

"Team two," a tinny voice came through Gibbs earpiece, "the roof access is booby trapped, we're working on it but it will take a few minutes to get through."

Gibbs swore softly, as Fornell's voice came over the radio. "Team three is entering. . ." They heard the explosion in stereo, through the headsets and muffled from the other side of the building.

Fornell swore loudly, before snapping back into professional mode. It was clear that he was running as he spoke. "Agents down far side of the building. Dammit! There were explosives on the fire escape."

Gibbs stared forward without seeing, ignoring the frantic radio chatter, his mind replaying the hastily assembled assault plan. That was it, three entry points and no way in, agents injured, pinned down, and there was still the faint echo of sporadic weapons fire from the floor above. He looked across at Kate, saw his own concerns reflected in her eyes. If they waited it out then there was no hope for those inside, no hope for Tony.

It wasn't really a decision he took, just an automatic response to circumstances. "Kate, McGee, cover me on three," he instructed, his gaze sweeping across the agents around him. "Everyone else hold position." He scanned the nodded replies as he began the countdown. "One," he leaned up off the wall, straightened his stance. "Two," he shifted his position, glancing down to check his weapon. "Three," and he was throwing himself sideways through the door, moving rapidly in a wide arc, his gun concentrated on the entryway about thirty feet down, where the shooter was standing. He was only vaguely aware of the two figures who moved in behind him. The gunfire, that should have been deafening as the two agents emptied their clips mere feet from him into the cavernous room, barely registered above muffled thumps as his entire being focused on the figure that emerged into his line of sight. The man turned his weapon almost in slow motion towards him, and then reacted to the bullets that thudded into his chest as Gibbs emptied his own clip into him.

Gibbs was running forward even as he fell, throwing himself into the cover of the wall, in case he wasn't alone. He turned drawing in sharp heavy breaths as he reloaded. Kate moved up beside him still closely followed by McGee, they were both reloading too.

"Was he alone?" Kate asked

"Couldn't see anyone else," Gibbs panted, "Doesn't mean they weren't there." He moved cautiously forward, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on the entryway.

The floor around Hamilton was slick with blood. It was clear that he was dead long before they reached him so they ignored the corpse, concentrating instead on the hallway behind him. Gibbs moved first, Kate following closely. "Clear," they both shouted as they moved further in.

"Hey!" The shout came from just ahead. "Help!"

Kate, Gibbs and McGee all shared a brief look before running down the corridor guns still pointed forward.

"Don't shoot," Danvers raised one blood-covered hand, keeping his other firmly pressed down on his bleeding thigh. He was crouched on the stairway a few steps up, a clear blood trail leading to the bottom. "Agent Danvers FBI," he stated. "I tried to draw his fire," he gestured vaguely down the corridor towards Hamilton's body. "When I heard you coming in. Not too bright, handgun against M16."

The three agents resisted the temptation to point out that's exactly what they'd just taken him out with. Gibbs spoke into his mike. "We need paramedics, first floor Agent down." He concentrated on Danvers, confident that McGee and Kate were covering the stairs without checking. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"Through and through," Danvers said, clamping his other hand back on the back of his leg with a slight grimace. "I'll live." He nodded up the stairwell. "Leave me. You need to get up there Agent Dinozzo, Dr Clarke. . ." he took in a panting breath. "They're holed up in one of the offices. . ."

Gibbs hadn't allowed himself the luxury of concern since he'd given the order to go, and he didn't allow himself the luxury of relief now, but he couldn't deny the echoing thought that formed a backdrop for his conscious questioning. Tony's alive, he's still alive, there's still hope.

"They armed?" Gibbs asked practically, his relief could still be premature. . .

Danvers nodded. ".38, four clips, they should be able to hold them off for a while."

"How many?"

"Two. . ."

"Reeves and Atkins?" Gibbs asked.

If Danvers was surprised he didn't let it show. He just nodded again. "Reeves has the other M16, Atkins a .38"

"Sit tight," Gibbs stated as Danvers gave another grimace of pain, "EMTs are on their way in."

Danvers nodded again, gritting his teeth a little before adding. "I'll be fine," although the trail of blood, and his near translucent skin attested to the lie of the comment. "Just get them out of there."

"Planning on it," Gibbs acknowledged as he set off up the stairs.

McGee was standing slightly above Kate, both covering the stairwell against attack from above. Gibbs moved past them stopping to take up a covering stance as they passed each other on the move up, like some well rehearsed dance sequence, each starting to move as the next took up position, and then they were at the top of the stairs and moving forwards, covering all of the angles, watchful as they moved towards the still sporadic gunfire.

Kate reached the doorway first, glancing in before dropping back to the side, McGee joined her, and once again Gibbs took the other side.

"Two of them," she confirmed, "One injured, he's holding his shoulder, the other's firing down a corridor opposite."

Gibbs nodded, silently mouthing the one and two before signalling the three. "NCIS, drop your weapons," he shouted as he moved through the doorway Kate at his side.

Atkins just slid down the wall and put up his uninjured hand. Reeves made the mistake of turning with the M16 still in his hands. Six shots hit him in the chest before he'd even completed the turn.

The NCIS agents barely paused, moving forwards again. "McGee watch him," Gibbs ordered as he and Kate ran on. They moved into the mouth of the corridor and were met by a smattering of gunfire, a quick reverse of direction found them panting back in cover, one either side.

"Dinozzo?" Gibbs shouted.

"You'd better stop shooting at him Tony, Gibbs looks seriously pissed." Kate added, holding her position, back against the wall.

"Agent Gibbs?" The tentative voice called back questioningly, "Agent Todd?" The relief was clear and both agents risked a glance down the corridor to see the now standing, hopeful form of Dr Clarke behind a low wall at the other end, he held the .38 loosely, pointing it mostly in their direction.

They both moved out from their cover, their own guns kept down.

Gibbs moved first running forward. He waited until he was closer to the slightly dazed looking man before stating. "It's safe now doc." He gave a meaningful look at the gun the man still held.

The doctor dropped his hand to his side, blinking a couple of times. "Safe," he repeated, as if he had to say it himself for it to have any meaning. Then his gaze drifted down to the man on the floor beside him, and it was as though he'd been slapped in the face. He dropped to his knees, placing the gun on the ground as he felt for a pulse.

Gibbs held his breath, freezing in the moment, an all too familiar hole opening somewhere deep in his intestines as his insides tried to twist into it. This was the third time in less than a week that Tony had been close to death, that there had been doubt about whether they would reach him alive or not. A perverse part of his mind told him he ought to be getting used to it, surely it should be getting easier, but it wasn't, it couldn't ever be.

Dr. Clarke swore.

"Is he. . ?" Kate asked the question that Gibbs couldn't verbalise, but even she only got it half out.

"There's a medical bag, back in the other room. . ." Dr Clarke made the request even as he began shifting Tony's position.

Gibbs didn't move but he did finally let out the breath he'd been holding, still there, still hope. No need for a medical bag if he was already. . .

"I'll get it," Kate turned as she spoke, grateful for something to do. She'd spent too much time in the past few days watching her partner in various stages of dying, only to be pulled back from the brink. She couldn't watch it any more, couldn't believe that he had any luck, any chances left.

"We need paramedics, second floor, now," Gibbs stated into his mike, "And get that medivac chopper down."

Kate arrived with the bag, the EMTs arrived shortly after, soon the whole room was milling with black clad agents with either FBI or NCIS in neat white letters on their flak jackets. The scene needed handling, the teams coordinating, but Gibbs just stood, his back to the wall, Kate next to him, McGee joining her once Atkins had been taken in for questioning. They stood and watched as Dr. Clarke refused to let Tony die. If any of them had been asked what else had happened in the room, in the corridor, they couldn't have said, trained observers who observed nothing, no one, but their friend's fight for life.

Finally Dr Clarke said. "OK let's get him out of here."

"Doc?" Gibbs questioned, finally moving himself away from the support of the wall.

The Doctor turned wearily and gave a slight shake. "I didn't think we'd get him this far, but he's still fighting." He gave a short sigh. "I'm beginning to think I could make a career out of saving his life."

"Tell me about it," Gibbs agreed, his gaze following the stretcher.

"Of course," Dr. Clarke's tone drew Gibbs gaze back to meet his. "Now at least he's paid one back."

NCISNCIS

The conference took place in autopsy, Ducky, Gibbs, Abby, Jimmy, Kate and McGee. It started with Ducky trying to avoid giving his opinion on Tony's condition. He didn't share with the group the fact that many of his autopsies were on healthier people. Instead he tried to concentrate on the few positives, and ignore the many likely complications.

"Dr Clarke is going to keep him sedated for the next few days," he stated, "Give his systems a chance to recover. They'll be keeping a close watch on him."

"But he is going to be all right?" Kate asked.

Ducky thought for a moment, before deciding that a complete lie wouldn't be helpful should things take a turn for the worse. "His body's taken a lot of punishment in the past few days, and he's running a fever from an infection. . ." He paused, deciding what to say next. It wasn't by any means a certainty, even now that he was in the hospital, that Tony would survive let alone make a full recovery, and it would be easier for all concerned if everyone understood that. He looked around the group realising that the sentiment had been carried all too well by his hesitancy to say anything positive, and by the silence. Abby looked almost as if she might cry, Kate too, it had been a traumatic few days. "But he's also receiving the best care," Ducky added, "and, if we can manage to keep him in the hospital this time, then he has a good chance."

Abby brightened a little at the hope in the doctor's tone. "There shouldn't be a problem with that 'cos we've caught all the bad guys now." She looked around, "Right?" There was another moment of thoughtful silence. "Well at least all the ones who might want to kill or kidnap Tony. . .We've got all of those."

"Except Tony hasn't told anyone what he did with the diamonds yet," McGee supplied.

Jimmy blew out a breath and looked down wistfully at the floor "A hundred million dollars, tax free, that's mighty tempting. You could. . ." He had been momentarily oblivious to those around him, but the silence had become a little tense. He looked up and found all of the others staring at him. He faltered, it was difficult not to, given the weight of personalities in the room.

"I trust Mr Palmer, that you were not suggesting that Agent Dinozzo would do anything untoward?" Ducky asked.

Jimmy shook his head rapidly. "No, I. . .er. . .that is, I was just thinking someone else. . . I mean if he knows where the diamonds are. . .and no one else . . .I mean if someone else who knew he knew. . ."

"There are two marines and four agents watching him." Gibbs interjected.

"Still if we could figure out where he sent them," Kate stated. "then he really would be out of danger."

"And that will be our second priority," Gibbs said cryptically. He waited for the question.

"And the first?" Ducky asked.

"We all have reports to write." Gibbs was meeting Ducky's gaze directly now, the others watching.

Ducky obligingly provided the required prompt. "Writing our reports does not normally require a clandestine meeting, Jethro. So what's different today?"

"Well Tony's not usually acting on his own, interfering with a federal investigation." Gibbs gaze now extended to the rest of the group. "If we report it as it happened, then Tony will face at the least disciplinary action, and it's likely he'll be fired. . ."

"Unless we make his actions official. . . ." Fornell took up the sentence, surprising everyone, except Gibbs, as he moved across to join the group.

NCISNCIS

"So," Director Morrow said, "Let me see if I've got this straight." He paused to stare pointedly first at Gibbs and then at Fornell, letting them both know that he was looking for any sign that what he was repeating back to them wasn't the truth. Both men met his gaze with an even stare. "Agent Dinozzo was working undercover on a joint FBI, NCIS operation?" Both men nodded. His next comment was aimed at Gibbs. "We were involved despite their being no naval connection because Agent Dinozzo had previously had a personal relationship with one of the suspects." Gibbs gave another slight nod of agreement. "And you," the director's gaze took in both men again, "didn't tell anyone about this arrangement because you knew there was a leak from somewhere in law enforcement. So you were doing this on a need to know basis." The pause lasted a little longer this time. Both agents knew this was the shakiest part of their story, since the only people they really needed to inform were their own directors, and neither of them would dare suggest that there would be a leak at that level.

Fornell took a breath but it was Gibbs who spoke. "My fault sir, I should have let you know, but there wasn't time to do it in person and anything written is never 100 per cent secure."

"We do have secure e-mail, Agent Gibbs," Morrow suggested, he paused for a moment. "Then again if I had Agent McGee on my team I don't suppose I'd trust it either." He gave a slight smile, before another thoughtful pause. "I know this had a successful outcome. You stopped a crazed killer, arrested a crooked cop and took out a mob hit team, not to mention cutting off a multi million dollar smuggling operation, but two citizens died, and we almost lost two agents in the process." He looked between the two men. "Not the sort of footnote that either agency can afford."

Gibbs looked down for a moment before meeting Morrow's gaze again. "No, sir," he confirmed.

Morrow held the pause again. It was his weapon of choice to make the point that he knew he was being lied to but wasn't on this occasion going to call them on it. That didn't mean he wasn't going to make them squirm a little. He had to be sure that they knew he knew, so that the liberties that they took wouldn't become too big. He stared at each man in turn before he finally nodded, satisfied that they all understood each other. "Very well," he looked across at Fornell. "I'll square everything with your director. You're team are happy to do the mopping up?"

"Yes sir," Fornell said, unable to quite hold in check the surprise and the relief that this part was over, and grateful that he wouldn't have to go through the whole thing again with his own boss.

"And as for you," he directed his comments back to Gibbs. "I'll expect your team's reports on my desk first thing in the morning."

"Yes sir," it was Gibbs' turn to pause. "Except. . ."

"Except for Agent Dinozzo, yes I've spoken to the hospital. You can get his statement when he's well enough." He reached for his phone. "OK both of you get out of here. We've all got clearing up to do."

NCISNCIS

Gibbs headed for his desk coffee in hand. "Kate, McGee I need your reports before I leave."

They both looked up and allowed the relief to show. The director had bought the story, that's all they needed to know.

"Agent Gibbs?"

The tentative voice came from behind and Gibbs turned, just short of his desk, recognising the young man who stood behind him.

"Lloyd," Gibbs moved round to stand in front of his chair as he spoke, gesturing for the young man to move closer as he put his coffee down. "What can I do for you?"

Lloyd placed his backpack on the edge of the desk. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," he stated apologetically, "but I don't get off 'til eight. . . I got here as soon as I could. I know it's a little longer than Tony said but. . ."

Kate and McGee had moved up behind him, watching as he pulled the innocuous looking brown paper package from his bag.

". . .I figured a few hours wouldn't matter too much." He handed the package to Gibbs. "I kept it real safe, like he said. . ."

"Tony told you. . .?" Gibbs began to question.

"No," Lloyd interrupted, "I mean. . . it's in the note."

Gibbs took the package and read the attached piece of paper. 'Lloyd, look after this for me, and keep it hidden, it's very important. Give it to no one but me. Unless you don't hear from me within 48 hours, then take it to Gibbs. Thanks- Tony.' Gibbs gave a small smile, looking up to see Lloyd watching him.

"It's important huh?" Lloyd asked.

"Very," Gibbs confirmed. "Tony really trusts you."

Lloyd smiled proudly, before his expression turned a little more sombre. "He hasn't been home. Is he all right?"

"He's in the hospital," Gibbs answered, considering before continuing. "We'll know in the next few days."

Lloyd gave a slight nod. "OK I. . er. . . You'll let me know if he's up for visitors?" The question was asking for more than that, for information either way. The young man clearly just didn't want to express it.

Gibbs met his gaze and gave a nod. "We'll let you know," either way.

Lloyd zipped up his backpack and hoisted it back onto his shoulder. "Thanks, I guess I'd better be going my parents are expecting me home."

"You live with them?" Kate asked.

"In Brentwood," Lloyd confirmed. He started to move towards the door. "If you speak to Tony, Agent Dinozzo, tell him I kept up my part of the deal. . ."

"Deal?" Kate questioned.

"He helped me deal with some difficult tenants, and I told him that if he ever had any problems with his special agent stuff then he could count on me." Lloyd gave a slight smile, "and tell him that I hope he's better soon." He was backing away by this point and started to turn.

"Wait," McGee called, causing Lloyd to look back. "Don't you want to know what's in the package?"

Lloyd shook his head. "It's spy stuff right? And Tony nearly got himself killed over it so I think I'm best just not knowing. Thanks," and this time he did turn and walk away, leaving three admiring but bemused agents in his wake.

NCISNCIS

Kate was still yawning as she rushed round the corner to her desk in the bullpen, she only slowed down when she realised that Gibbs wasn't at his desk. She pulled up short, depositing her bag on the side rather than moving to her seat. "Gibbs not in yet?" She asked checking her watch.

McGee shook his head. "I've been here since eight, haven't seen him." He shifted in his seat. "You're late," he stated.

"Not if Gibbs doesn't know, I'm not," Kate stated confidently, finally moving round to her seat. "I called by the hospital on my way in."

McGee ignored the opportunity to point out that the hospital was a half hour detour from Kate's place. "And?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Still just holding his own." She sighed. It had somehow been easier this morning, at least easier than when she'd last been by his bedside. She had felt more hope, as though the very air around him acknowledged that the case was over, that there was no more impending threat from the outside. Still, the doctors, even Dr. Clarke who, cleared for duty, spent more time than he should checking on his favourite patient, would only admit to being 'cautiously optimistic,' and that fact was wearing on the nerves.

She'd sat with him for several minutes, trying to convince herself that he looked better, but it wasn't enough. She wasn't sure if, even at the threat of Gibbs' wrath, she was going to be able to concentrate for the day's work ahead.

"Director," Kate acknowledged, as his unexpected appearance in the bullpen finally shook her from her reverie. "If you're looking for agent Gibbs I'm afraid he. . ." She wasn't sure how she would complete the sentence, whether she would have continued with a variation on the truth to cover for Gibbs' uncharacteristic tardiness, because Morrow was already speaking.

". . .Agent Gibbs won't be in for the next week he's taken a vacation."

There was a momentary stunned silence. "A vacation? but Gibbs never. . ." the sentence trailed off as Kate tried to absorb the idea.

"A vacation?" McGee parroted.

Director Morrow successfully stifled his smile at the reaction. "Yes, he won't be here for the next week, so with Agent Dinozzo's medical leave I'm standing the team down. You can use the time to catch up on your paperwork, or maybe to take some vacation time of your own. You've been through a tough few days, and I think you all need it, but I'll leave that decision up to you."

He looked at Kate and McGee in turn, their expressions still slightly stunned. "OK, that's all I have to say, let me know what you decide."

McGee turned to meet Kate's gaze after the director had left. "A vacation?" he asked unable to keep the incredulous tone at bay.

Kate shook her head. "That's what he said."

NCISNCIS

Ducky stared at Abby "A vacation?" he asked his eyebrows slightly raised. "Are you sure?"

"That's what the director said," Abby confirmed. "And I checked the log, he submitted the application last night, had it approved before he left."

Ducky politely ignored the fact that that was something she should not have access to.

"So what does it mean?" Abby asked "And where would he go?"

Ducky shook his head. "Well, since Gibbs has never done anything like this before I'd have to say that I really don't know." He shook his head again looking down thoughtfully. "A vacation?"

NCISNCIS

Gibbs stood quietly watching the sleeping form on the bed, drawing a strange comfort from the bright green displays and the gentle blips that signified stability. Each passing minute of life was a bonus from here on in, and the more credit Tony built up, the more likely that the bonus time would be more permanent.

He'd known from the moment he got Tony back to the hospital, that watching him was no longer a task he could trust to anyone else. He'd almost lost him too many times in the last few days, and, imminent threat or not, he wasn't going to leave him again, not again, and so he watched.

Days were spent hidden away in the room next door, surveillance cameras giving him views of every angle. He didn't want anyone else to see him, and it had been relatively easy to persuade the hospital to give him anything he wanted after the loss of Dr. Pashman, not to mention their allowing Tony to be taken from the hospital twice, and Dr. Clarke's kidnapping. So he spent his days watching the monitors of Tony's room and his nights, when he could, watching from Tony's bedside.

"You ready for some sleep?" Fornell hadn't made a sound as he approached, but Gibbs didn't acknowledge any sign of surprise.

He nodded and moved back quietly through the adjoining doors, not that Tony was in any condition to wake up. "Four hours," he stated, as Fornell took over the watch for him. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

NCISNCIS

Dr. Clarke watched the monitors for a little while then did a brief examination before turning to Gibbs. "He should be waking up soon, remember no stress, try to keep him as quiet and relaxed as possible, and let me know as soon as he wakes up."

Gibbs nodded. "Any idea how long?"

Dr. Clarke shrugged. "Could be a few minutes, or a few more hours. I'll come back when I've finished my rounds." He paused by the door, clearly making a decision about something "You know he's going to be fine now. He should make a full recovery." He took a half step back into the room. Now that he'd raised the issue he needed an answer. "It's just you look more worried now than you did when there was still a danger that he might die."

Gibbs looked down at Tony, gave a slight shake of the head. "It'll be a painful recovery." He looked up to meet the doctor's gaze. "I know, I've been somewhere like where he is now."

It was obvious that Gibbs was talking about more than just the physical pain, although that would be bad enough.

"And how did you get through it?" Dr. Clarke asked

Gibbs thought for just a moment. "I had someone to help me."

Dr Clarke smiled, glancing down at Tony and then back up at Gibbs. "Then I'm even more sure that he'll be just fine."

The endish

An epilogue will follow.


	37. Epilogue

**Chapter 37:- Epilogue.**

Kate couldn't help it. She couldn't help all of the surreptitious glances over to his desk. She'd almost gotten used to it being empty in the eight weeks he'd been on medical leave. . . almost. Not that just learning to live with it was enough, the hole was always there to remind her that he wasn't, an emptiness hovering on the other side of the room. Even when his temporary replacements had been sitting there, the space had still seemed empty, but now that he was back it was like he'd never left. He'd come in this morning all grins and wisecracks, insults and obscure film references, and it didn't look like he was really trying too hard, or faking it. At least, no more than he ever had before.

Kate wasn't sure what she'd expected. The last time she'd seen him he'd looked so vulnerable, lost and withdrawn. She hadn't been sure that they'd ever get him back. Not the Tony that they knew at any rate, and she didn't want anything less. A pale and jaded Tony would be worse than not getting him back at all.

The empty shell that had sat staring at the walls in the hospital, once he was actually well enough to sit and stare at the walls, had been heartbreaking to visit. Any strength that he'd had when she'd seen him for that brief time in the clearing, when he'd saved her life; that had gone completely. Looking at him, talking to him had had the haunting feeling of talking to someone who had died; he'd just forgotten to do the stop breathing part.

It didn't matter, because breathing or not there wasn't any life there.

She'd had to force herself to visit him, even found herself making excuses as to why she couldn't go, putting it off. She was ashamed of herself, ashamed of abandoning him when he clearly needed her so badly, but the pain of seeing him like that. . .It stabbed through her heart before the knife dragged down and buried itself hilt deep in her gut, twisting and turning as it went, and when he looked at her with those hollow empty eyes, she wasn't sure weather she wanted to scream or cry, but she couldn't do either, just gaze back and try not to lose her own hope. He just needed time to heal, that was all. 'You can't heal the dead.' She tried to ignore the uncomfortable thought, dismissed it, but it wouldn't go away, despite her attempts at internal reassurance. He was lost and empty and nothing she said or did was helping.

Still she'd tried, when she could force herself past the excuses. Abby had tried too, they'd often met in the hallway on the way in or out, waiting for each other to come out because visiting him together wasn't an option, would have led to too many despairing congruous looks across his bed when he didn't respond. Every day Abby went, every day she bounced in, bubbly and full of hope that today would be the day, every day she'd walked out, shoulders dipped as much as Abby's shoulders ever dipped, unshed tears in her eyes, and the significant looks had been exchanged in the hallway, because it was easier there to share the emotion of despair. They couldn't do that in his room because there was too much negative emotion in there already, any more would have been crushing. Hell it was crushing already.

Even when they discharged him, he was just going through the motions of being alive. Turning up for physio and psyche sessions because somebody, McGee or Abby or Kate or Ducky or even Gibbs would turn up to make sure he got there, and the most significant part of it was that he didn't object. He didn't once complain that he was a big boy now; that he could make it to his appointments on his own; that he didn't need babying or looking after, didn't protest. He just locked his front door, followed them wordlessly to the parking garage, and climbed in the car, looking ruffled and unkempt, in clothes that were clean and functional, but more suited to lying round the house than going out in. He would ask in a slightly distracted manner where they were going, nod when he was told, and then nothing more. It didn't matter how they talked to him, friendly and cajoling, frustrated, even angry at his lack of progress, he would turn to them with the same empty half smile and tell them that they didn't have to help, that he would be fine.

"Hey," Tony said, throwing a paper ball at her that bounced off her forehead, and neatly pulled her back from the morass of bad memories. "Look I know you can't resist my boyish good looks and incredible charm but if you keep staring at me like that then people will talk, and I have a reputation to keep up."

Kate shook her head giving her mind a moment to focus back in the present. "I am not staring," she protested.

He didn't bother to challenge that, at least not with words; he allowed his expression to do it for him.

Kate's mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she tried to come up with a suitable rejoinder, but she had been staring and she wasn't sure for how long as she'd drifted in uncomfortable memories. "I was just thinking," she eventually tried.

"Oh yeah, and what were you thinking about?" Tony asked, without considering the fact that he probably didn't want to know the answer.

Kate glanced back at her computer screen. "About the report I'm writing, just trying to get the facts in order," she lied, and he knew she was lying, could see it in his eyes. It was the first moment of awkwardness between them since he'd come in this morning. The first moment where the intervening two months really made their presence known, as the normalcy of his behaviour slipped.

Tony stared back as she met his gaze. "Tough case huh?" he asked, and that wasn't what he was asking at all.

"Yeah," she answered, "I think it was hard on all of us."

Tony dipped his head in acknowledgement. "The trick is, to not dwell on the past," he said softly. "What's done is done and you just have to move on."

"Not always that easy," Kate stated, surprised at the sudden seriousness and sincerity from her partner, as he let his mask slip almost completely to reveal an edge of still raw emotions, but at least it was emotions, not the emptiness of. . . .

"No, not easy," Tony agreed, "never easy."

NCISNCIS

Tony drifted awake, the pain, nagging and gnawing at him, his throat was dry and sore, his eyelids felt like lead as he struggled to open them, but all of that was just a background to the uncomfortable thought that he was still alive. In the hospital again, where they would try to ensure that he stayed that way, and he was disappointed, saddened that he was here because he didn't want to be. He drew in a sharp uncomfortable breath as the thought took hold. He didn't want to live, didn't want to be alive because. . . and for a moment there was nothing more, no thoughts, no memories to give the feeling meaning, to explain the uncomfortable conviction that being dead was somehow better than what he faced.

He could feel his body reacting, anxiety gripped him, sweat broke across cold skin, breaths came in short rapid pants, and his heart thundered in his chest. He was vaguely aware of the alarm that sounded on the machine next to him as his thoughts spiraled in a confusion of memories and pain, death and grief and betrayal, love and hatred. It was too much; too much pain wrapped itself around the flashes of memory. He couldn't. . .

"Tony. . . Tony, can you hear me?"

The voice barely registered apart from an almost automatic recognition of his own name, pulling him back to a present that he desperately wanted to escape from.

"Tony, we need you to try to calm down," the voice said, there was some other noise, voices, perhaps, conversation, snatches of words. "Tony, can you hear me?"

Tony turned his head towards the speaker, forcing reluctant eyelids open, but he couldn't focus. All he could make out was a bleary image of a vaguely person shaped mass. He blinked and the image split into two and then reformed, but still would not clear. His breathing was coming in short painful gasps and someone placed something over his mouth and nose. No! he couldn't breathe. Why would they. . . He tried to raise his hand, tried to knock the offending item away, but his arm barely moved and it took so much. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see, and the pain. . . He just wanted to. . .

"Dinozzo," the voice was clear and sharp and familiar, as Gibbs managed to convince the doctor to let him try, because the next option was sedation and he'd already been out for days, they needed him awake now.

"Dinozzo," again sharp, clear, familiar, providing an anchor to hold Tony steady through the storm of sensation and emotion in his head, because listening to and obeying that voice was as familiar as breathing. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, boss," Tony managed to gasp the words weakly, as he turned his head and finally the edges sharpened into focus as he stared up at Gibbs.

Gibbs saw the slight fogging of the oxygen mask, did not need to hear the words to know that Tony had responded, and it heartened him, but he kept his tone gruff and authoritarian, the only way he could be sure Tony would obey. "You will calm yourself down, and you will take slow deep breaths. Is that clear Agent Dinozzo?"

Tony gave a slight nod and attempted to obey, but the images, the pain, the still unfocused memories kept. . . He stared at Gibbs trying hard to follow his instructions. When Gibbs ordered he did, except he hadn't. He hadn't told him. He'd betrayed. . .

Gibbs watched as the younger man attempted to settle, his breathing slowed a little but then, it was almost as if he could see the memory forming just behind Tony's eyes and the blips on the heart monitor increased again. It was no good he needed to give him something else to focus on. "Remember rule number 26 Dinozzo."

Tony's mind locked onto that, focused on it, rule number 26 was. . . never . . . always. . . don't. . . What was. . ? He stared back up at Gibbs allowing his puzzlement to show.

Gibbs shook his head "Rule number 50, never remind subordinates of rules that they should know."

Tony managed a slight smile. He was sure Gibbs had just made that one up, and if he'd had the energy he would have told him, but he was also fairly sure that he did know rule number 26. If he could just. . .

Gibbs watched with relief as Tony's breathing and heart-rate evened out and the tension in the room dropped several notches as the medical staff too began to relax. Dr. Clarke nodded his thanks to Gibbs as the unfocussed panic reaction left his patient and he became more lucid.

"Tony?"

The doctor's questioning tone had Tony turning his head again. He blinked slowly in response to his name. It was the most he could manage.

"OK, we're going to go back to the nasal canula as that will be a little more comfortable for you, and then I'm going to be asking some questions. Is that all right?"

Tony gave a slight nod, he could do that; he could remain calm for the doctor, besides Gibbs would kick his ass if he didn't, the familiar thought would have made him smile, if he'd been capable of any sort of positive emotion, it would have made him smile. . . Not that Gibbs would care any more, not now that he had. . .He turned his head to see Gibbs again. To look for the expression of disappointment and betrayal that he knew he would find there, but Gibbs wasn't there; he had gone. Tony wasn't surprised; he was more surprised that he had been there at all, probably making sure that he was alive so that he could personally throw the book at him. At least that was one good reason for being alive, at least he could give his boss the satisfaction of personally. . .

"Tony?"

Dr. Clarke drew his attention again. Had Tony been more aware he would have heard the nurse asking Gibbs to wait outside while the doctor finished his examination, would have seen the strong emotion in his boss's eyes, emotion that he normally hid so well. Could have felt the concern that radiated from the man who had sat watching over him for a week waiting for him to wake, but he couldn't focus on more than one thing at once, and there were so many pains and memories vying for his attention, by the time the doctor had finished with him, he was asleep again.

"It's a natural sleep," Dr. Clarke explained to Gibbs as he left the room. "The next time he wakes he should be more lucid, but he's got a long way to go."

Gibbs nodded, his eyes drawn to the bed and Tony's sleeping form. "Thanks doc."

Clarke began to turn away but stopped. "Just one thing, Rule number 26?"

Gibbs smiled up at him. "Never give medical personnel a hard time."

The doctor smiled back. "A good rule."

NCISNCIS

The next time Tony awoke, he knew that he wasn't alone before he opened his eyes; there was a quiet whispering coming from the side of the bed, more than one person to face. He kept his eyes closed, allowed his thoughts to drift, willed himself back to sleep where he could hide from the pain, but it was no good. He shifted slightly and the discomfort made an involuntary groan escape his lips.

"Dinozzo?"

Damn, it was Gibbs! He opened his eyes, shifting his gaze around the room as he slowly focused. Gibbs sat in the chair nearest to him and Fornell sat a little further away. Tony's heart constricted a little. Gibbs wasn't even going to deal with him himself. He was going to toss him to the FBI, leave him to Fornell's less than tender mercies. He wasn't entirely sure if that was better or worse, didn't matter, either way was bad, but he couldn't find it in himself to believe that it wasn't what he deserved, maybe they were both going to take a piece of him.

"Dinozzo," Gibbs asked again, "You with us?"

Tony nodded, "Yes," he replied, managing only a croaky whisper.

"Good, I was beginning to think you'd never wake up Dinotzo" Fornell leaned a little forward in his chair, "but now that you have I want to thank you."

"Thank me?" Tony questioned, glancing across to Gibbs and then back to Fornell.

"For all the sterling undercover work you did on our joint investigation," Fornell replied calmly.

"Joint investigation?" Tony repeated.

"You know if you're going to keep repeating the end of my sentences this is going to take a while." Fornell gave an uncharacteristic smile. At least it was something that Tony had rarely seen. Gibbs had seen Fornell smile often in private, but like his own smile it didn't really fit Fornell's well cultivated image with his agents. He leant forward in his chair. "We were investigating a. . ."

Gibbs sat watching Tony as Fornell filled him in on the FBI investigation that he had supposedly been brought in on. Tony listened quietly, his head resting back on the pillow, his eyes never leaving Fornell's face, not once, not even when he referred to Gibbs by name.

Fornell gave the official version of the story, the one they'd put in all the reports. The FBI had received word of the smuggling operation, had managed to get an agent on the inside, and had found out there was a leak somewhere in law enforcement. That was when they had got word on Julie Simpson, Dinozzo's name had come up in a background check on her, and Fornell had decided to ask Gibbs directly for his help.

Tony listened to his role explained, enough of the truth to fit with events and evidence, enough fabrication to make it a legitimate NCIS/ FBI case. They clearly knew everything, had pieced it all together, and instead of ending his career they were covering for him, Gibbs, Abby, Kate, McGee, for some reason even Fornell. He had deserted them, not trusted them, and still they were. . . . "No," he said softly.

Fornell stopped mid sentence "Dinotzo?" he questioned.

"No," Tony repeated, his voice gaining a little strength. He finally looked at Gibbs, "That's not how it happened, I didn't. . ."

"This is what's gone in all the reports, Dinotzo," Fornell interrupted. "Including yours Gibbs has it with him for you to sign." He paused, slightly unsure when Tony's gaze did not waver from Gibbs. "It's what everyone believes happened, and it's too late to change it now."

Fornell watched the two men as Gibbs' eyes scanned Tony's features. There was silence but there was clearly some sort of communication going on.

"Could you give us a minute Tobias," Gibbs' asked, his gaze still not leaving Tony's

"Sure," Fornell said, standing and rearranging his raincoat over his arm. "I'll be in the hall when you're ready." He watched the two men for another second, silently wishing he could have that sort of connection with some of his own agents, and then he turned and left the room, whatever was going to be said from this point on, it wasn't for outsiders.

Gibbs had allowed a momentary panic as Tony's eyes first met his. It was almost as if he could see into the younger agent's soul and touch the emptiness that was there. That was because he recognised it. He hadn't lied to Dr. Clarke, he had been where Tony was now, hiding in that dark empty pit that the world couldn't see unless they looked real hard, and gazed through his eyes into the dark abyss. The journey back wasn't going to be easy. Without help the journey back wouldn't happen at all. Tony's expression was almost pleading with him, wanting him to punish him, as if more punishment would make the pain go away. It wouldn't. Gibbs momentary panic was brought on by the fact that he didn't know what would. He quelled it, maybe nothing would, but he had to try. He had asked Fornell to leave, because he had to make it over the first test, the first hurdle, had to somehow get Tony to see that there was a way out, because if he failed. . . .

"Why?" Tony asked quietly, breaking the silence with a single word that almost made Gibbs' jump. Tony stared for a moment waiting for an answer, when none came he elaborated, looking down at the sheets. "I lied to you, to Ducky, worked behind your back, kept you out. You should be kicking me off the team, out of NCIS, hell even filing charges." He swallowed slowly. "I let you down," he paused, "So why?" He met Gibbs' gaze again.

"What makes you think I still won't?" Gibbs shifted just slightly in his seat.

"Because the fiction Fornell just gave to me turns me into some sort of hero, instead of. . ."

"Instead of what Tony?" He leaned forward now. "You saved Kate's life, Dr. Clarke's, gave Agent Danvers a chance."

Tony shook his head "They wouldn't have been in danger if it wasn't for me, If I hadn't. . ."

"Why, Tony?" Gibbs repeated his own question back at him. "Why did you get involved? Why did you help her? Why did you keep us out?"

Tony paused, looked down again as he rested back against the pillows letting some of the tension of the last few minutes drain away. He was exhausted, his energy draining like a tap, but Gibbs deserved an answer. "I loved her," he stated softly. There was a longer pause. "I loved her," he repeated before looking up "but I couldn't let the rest of you get hurt helping her. She was my problem. She was always my problem."

"Then you know why, Tony." Gibbs stated, pulling the statement out of his pocket he placed it on Tony's table. "McGee's quite good at imitating your style, grammatical errors and all." Gibbs handed him a pen. "You know where to sign."

Tony took the pen but hesitated. "You shouldn't have me back."

"Sign the statement Tony," Gibbs tone was softer than he'd ever heard it.

Tony signed the sheet awkwardly, then rested his head back against the pillows. "I'm tired," he stated. It wasn't a lie, but he was using it as an excuse and they both knew it.

Gibbs allowed it; he had gone as far as they were going to get today. He would have stopped even if the fatigue hadn't been showing in the younger agent's eyes. He already regretted not being able to leave this until Tony was a little stronger. He nodded, gathering up the papers and his pen. "I'll leave you to get some rest."

"I may not make it back," Tony offered, just before Gibbs reached the door. When he didn't, he wanted Gibbs to know that he had at least been grateful for the chance.

Gibbs paused, just long enough to let Tony know that he had heard him, and he cursed, because the 'may not' that Tony had said came across loud and clear as a 'won't,' but there was nothing more he could do, not right now. Hollow reassurances would be just that, and there was nothing he could say that Tony would listen to, let alone take in. "Get some sleep Dinozzo," he said, turning in the doorway, "We'll talk more tomorrow."

Fornell was waiting for him. "Did he sign the statement?"

Gibbs nodded. "He signed it," he confirmed.

"But he didn't want to; he wanted you to throw him to the wolves." Fornell stated, watching his friend, noticing the uncharacteristic creases of worry. "Maybe you should have done."

Gibbs' head snapped up at that and his eyes narrowed.

Fornell stood his ground even under Gibbs' intense scrutiny. "If you don't punish him, then maybe he'll take it on to punish himself." His eyes searched Gibb's expression for signs of understanding. "Last agent I had that looked like that, the department exonerated and two weeks later he ate his gun."

Gibbs shook his head, turning to walk away. "Not Dinozzo," he stated, quieting the small voice in his head that seemed to be suggesting he might with a soft. "I won't let him."

NCISNCIS

Hell, Tony decided, was a place that could be made infinitely worse by having your friends visit you, trying to get you out of there when you both knew that they couldn't. Dante should really have added that as an eighth circle, beyond any other torment. It'd give a whole new meaning to circle of friends.

He began to dread their visits. He could see the pain he was causing them. He wanted it to stop, but the only way it would stop was if he could get better, not physically that was improving all the time. His overly friendly therapist, Max, who reminded him of Mr. T., in build at least, frequently had to stop him from pushing himself too hard. It was as if he enjoyed the pain. At least it was something that he could feel, but the doctor's and nurses, especially Dr. Clarke kept too close a watch on him for him to do himself any real damage, and he knew that he was just one pulled muscle away from a 72 hour invitation to the psyche ward, so he didn't go too far, but frankly he was surprised he hadn't got that invitation anyway.

There were moments of clarity, moments where he could see himself and what was happening, moments like now where he understood that Abby had made her hurried excuses about being late for a party and left, because she didn't want him to see her crying over him. Moments where he knew that he didn't have one damn bit of control over how he was feeling or what he was doing. The rest of the time he was so buried in the empty darkness that all he wanted to do was escape, and he was getting worse, falling in deeper, darker, getting more separated from the world. His body interacted with it, but he didn't, and getting better was seeming ever more of a remote possibility.

There was another way out. A way that in the long term would save his friend's some of the pain of watching him fall apart; another way if he couldn't get better. He tried to avoid thinking about it, but the thoughts dwelled in the blackness waiting for him, and, each time he dropped further in, the thoughts came to greet him, offering him another way out.

NCISNCIS.

"He's getting worse Gibbs," Abby stated quietly, not even bothering to take a sip of the giant Caf-Pow that he had just handed her. She placed it on the counter.

"I know," Gibbs replied.

"So what are we going to do about it?" She asked slightly agitated, "The psyche sessions aren't helping and I'm really scared that he might," she paused, not wanting to put her fears into words, "do something stupid." She pinned Gibbs with her gaze. "We have to help him."

Gibbs nodded, he'd tried everything he could think of, and so far nothing was getting through. Since that first visit with Fornell, Tony had just become more and more withdrawn. Shutting down, piece by piece, day by day, as though he had nothing left to live for, and Gibbs didn't know what, if anything, would snap him out of it. He knew he had the strength; they just had to find whatever it was that would get him fighting again. He shook his head, hating to admit what he was about to admit. "I'm fresh out of ideas Abby. If there's anything you could. . ."

Abby shook her head. "You know I'm not the homicidal type right?"

Gibbs wasn't put off by the abrupt switch, it was fairly normal for her. "I've heard you threaten a couple of times," he stated. "Tell people you could kill them without leaving any evidence."

"Well I could!" Abby interjected indignantly as though the voracity of the threat was being questioned.

"I know you could Abs." Gibbs gave a small smile indicating that he had no doubts.

"But, I've never acted on my threats, I haven't. . .I wouldn't. . ."

"What's your point Abby?"

"If Tony hadn't killed Julie Simpson, I really think I would be tempted to kill her myself. I mean she's broken him not once but twice and . . ." She stopped at the expression on Gibbs face. "Gibbs?" she questioned. If Gibbs had been a cartoon character then as sure as anything a big light bulb would have appeared above his head.

"Abby you are a genius," he stated, cupping his hands around her cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss. Then he was moving for the door.

"I know that bossman," Abby stated to his retreating back, "but why?" she asked the closing door.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs strode purposefully into the bullpen and moved towards his desk. Kate and McGee noticing his demeanor began to get ready to move.

"We got a case Gibbs," Kate asked, automatically reaching for her desk drawer ready to retrieve her gun.

"No," Gibbs stated, "just pull up Dinozzo's personnel files. I want any living relatives in New York." He turned his head "And McGee, book Dinozzo on the first flight to New York tomorrow."

"But hasn't he got an appointment. . ." McGee began.

"Did I make that sound like a request instead of an order Agent McGee?"

"Er no boss, sorry," McGee picked up the phone whilst typing in the request for plane schedules on his computer.

"I'll take care of the hospital," Gibbs stated, picking up his own phone.

Kate turned to him before he could dial. "What's all this about?"

Gibbs gave a sigh. "You remember how Jason Black said they fixed him last time she broke him?" he asked.

Kate thought for a moment and then gave a slight smile of understanding as she looked up and met Gibbs gaze. "They sent him to stay with his cousins in New York."

Gibbs nodded. "So, let's see if they can fix him again."

NCISNCIS

Tony stared down at the grave stone, and allowed himself the luxury of painful memories, that finally hurt like they were supposed to. He had been surprised at first to find that they had buried them together, Mike and Julie Simpson. Mike didn't really have much in the way of relatives, and, if he was an example, he guessed he didn't inspire much loyalty in his friends either, but it still seemed wrong to bury him with the woman who had killed him, even if the plot was paid for, even if they had been husband and wife. She had killed him and surely he didn't deserve to spend eternity with her, not when. . .He had finally seen the crime scene photos, and his stomach lurched at the memory of what she had done to Mike, to Jason. . . God Jason, he squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head back as he allowed the grief to run down through him. He was going to miss him. He let out a long deep breath, dropping his head again as he held back the tears.

"Dinozzo," Gibbs voice came from behind and slightly to the left, but Tony didn't turn. He just waited until Gibbs walked up beside him.

"You wanted to see me?" Gibbs questioned by way of an opening when Tony didn't speak.

"Before I came back to work tomorrow," Tony confirmed, he paused, gathering his thoughts. "I just wanted to say thank you," he stated, "for not giving up on me, for having me back on the team, especially after I. . ."

"You lied to me Tony," Gibbs stated and Tony was shocked at the hurt in his tone.

Tony looked down, studying the ground at his feet, Gibbs still hadn't looked at him. "I know," he said softly.

"I could've helped."

"I know."

"It's what being in a team is all about."

"I know," he finally looked up, staring silently at Gibbs' profile as he gazed across the graveyard. "And I'm sorry."

"Dammit Tony," Gibbs turned, briefly letting a flash of anger show. "We could have lost you."

Tony met his gaze for a moment but when the fear flickered in Gibbs' eyes he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold it together if he kept looking, so he turned again, dropping his gaze to that interesting spot on the ground.

There was silence as Gibbs took the emotions and placed them carefully back in the box. He had promised himself he wouldn't do this. Tony was a lot better but he still wasn't there yet. He still didn't need this, but it was the small contrite apology that had broken through. "And don't apologise, Dinozzo."

"I know," Tony almost smiled. "It's a sign of weakness."

Gibbs clipped him on the back of the head. "No, Dinozzo, don't ever apologise for doing what I would have done."

Tony turned to meet Gibbs' gaze with a questioning look that was met with one of absolute sincerity. "No boss," he confirmed.

Gibbs turned away again. "Are we all right now Dinozzo?" he questioned staring down at the headstone.

Tony let out a breath. He had just cleared the final hurdle before going back to work. "Yeah."

There was a long pause; neither man looked at the other. Tony stared down at the plain headstone. Work stuff was done, his and Gibbs relationship had survived, only slightly scarred by the events of the last few weeks, but he'd needed Gibbs here for more than just a reduction of awkwardness in the office the next day.

"It still hurts," he said softly. "Everything she did, to me, to others, it still hurts that I. . ." the words choked off as the memory hit, the loud bang, the smell of blood and cordite, the image of blood blossoming on her chest. He shook his head to focus back on the present. "I couldn't. . .I can't stop loving her." He finally looked at Gibbs. "I should hate her."

Gibbs met his gaze. "Yes," he confirmed, "you should." His eyes narrowed slightly. "You think that would make any of this any easier?"

Tony thought for a moment. "Yes. . .No. . . Maybe?"

Gibbs looked back down at the grave. "You can't always control how you feel Dinozzo. What you can do is deal with it and move on."

"That easy, huh?" Tony asked.

"No, not easy," Gibbs stated, "never easy."

NCISNCIS

'Never easy,' the thought persisted as Tony turned back to his work. Eight weeks on and although he wasn't back to normal at least he could accept that he would get back there. The dark pit was behind him and every minute of every day he moved just a little further away from it, a little closer to where he used to be. He smiled to himself as he tapped a query into his computer, happy to be back at work, even though he'd still be riding a desk for a while. His damn arm was taking a long time to regain its full strength after the muscle damage that had been done. Still, it could have been worse, he might not have got full use back at all. He glanced over to Kate's desk and caught her watching him again. He gave an inward smile that he didn't let reach the surface. Time to go to phase two of proving to Kate that she had him back. He tapped in the last bit of his query with a flourish and hit the send button; the results would take a few minutes to get back. He stood.

"So Kate, since it's clear you can't keep your eyes off me. . . " He moved round to sit on the edge of his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

She looked up "Don't flatter yourself."

Tony smiled, standing slowly as he moved over to lean both arms on her desk. "Do you think it's got something to do with when you kissed me. I mean," he grinned, his white teeth almost flashing in the light. "it's hard to go back when you've touched the old Dinozzo lips." He was enjoying this now. "They say it can spoil you for. . ."

Kate sat back in her chair as Tony got closer. "I have not kissed you Tony, where do you get that. . ."

Tony turned to sit on her desk, again folding his arms but still twisted round so that he could face her. "Oh come now, you can't have forgotten."

Kate stood, feeling at a disadvantage being below him. She was searching through her memories trying to remember if she'd ever kissed him on the lips, when he'd been close to death? during his recovery? No, she was fairly certain the answer was no, maybe she'd brushed his cheek but. . . "I have never. . ."

"Tsk, Tsk, Kate, it's not good form to lie to your partner you know."

"I'm not. . ." Kate protested.

"But you must remember, down in autopsy, Gibbs and Ducky were there. They both remember. Your lips touched mine and. . ." Tony leant his head back closing his eyes and giving a slight smile as he sighed.

Suddenly it hit Kate what he was talking about. "Eww. . . Tony I was giving you mouth to mouth, I was trying to save. . . It wasn't a kiss. . ."

Tony just kept smiling at her, his grin widening as she became more frustrated.

"Tony only you could. . . just eww."

"Admit it," he stated, "Now that you've kissed me you just can't get over me."

Kate took in a deep breath. "Trust me Tony, If I'd ever kissed you, it would be you that couldn't get over me."

"Oh yeah?" Tony challenged.

"Yeah," Kate stated, "If I'd kissed you you'd know that you'd been kissed." For a moment their gazes met, each twinkling with amusement, and relief and familiarity, God how they had both missed this. Each had come in this morning with some trepidation about what the day would hold, about whether they could ever truly get back what they had. That question had just been answered.

Kate wasn't sure what possessed her. She leaned forward grabbed Tony and pulled him in for a full passionate kiss. He was clearly even more shocked by her actions than she was, but he didn't resist, instead he melted into it, allowing her to take the lead, soft moist heat sparked between them. Eventually she pulled back. "See," she said triumphantly, noting her partner's slightly flushed and even more embarrassed appearance, for all his talk he was remarkably shy sometimes. She smiled. She definitely had her partner back.

"If you two have quite finished making out," Gibbs said as he rounded the corner. "We have a case, dead sailor at Norfolk."

Tony stood up instantly and made his way back to his desk while Kate, hiding her own blush grabbed for her gun and pack.

Gibbs paused once he'd picked up his stuff. "Is there something you two want to tell me? Some reason why I shouldn't have you two working together on my team?" Gibbs asked, looking between the two agents.

"Er, no boss," Tony stated. "Kate was just. . ."

"I was just showing him the difference between a kiss and mouth to mouth," Kate stated somewhat awkwardly.

Gibbs looked at Tony

"What she said. . ." Tony stated.

"Would've thought you were a little old to get confused Dinozzo," Gibbs said as he moved past the agents' desk.

Kate and Tony shared one last look as she hurried past him

Damn it was good to be back.

The End.

Author's note:- Well that's it I can finally put this story to bed. I just want to thank again everyone who has read it, and everyone who has commented on it. Thank you for your patience, thank you for your encouragement. I really hope you enjoyed the ending. As ever I'd love to hear what you think- J

PS please check my bio there is something new on there that may or may not interest you.


End file.
